


I Am Gwen (the cutest cat on the Internet!)

by gwyllion



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Boston Red Sox, M/M, Maru - Freeform, Morris the Cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 05:40:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 58,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyllion/pseuds/gwyllion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is a lonely cat-loving bicycle messenger who is obsessed with Gwen—an adorable feline who stars in YouTube videos and whose owner has  never been seen on camera.  One day, Merlin makes a delivery to an apartment that seems strangely familiar.  Destiny ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_“I am Gwen,” the cat said proudly, her tail held high._

_With a twitch of her whiskers, she meowed and sprang through the air to land in the nearest lap, catching the owner of the lap off-guard. Judging from the startled look of surprise and the hands that flew up in surrender, the human didn’t dare to touch the furry intruder._

_Gwen braced herself by digging in slightly with her claws, glad that things had finally quieted down long enough for her to consider emerging from her hiding place beneath the bed. Eventually, the human’s racing heart would relax, and Gwen’s heart would follow._

_“Like all cats, I rely on my servants to provide for my feline needs—a nice meal, some entertainment-preferably in the form of a cardboard box, a soft lap,” Gwen continued, a deep rumbling purr vibrating from within her round body. “You, human, have what it takes… in the lap department, anyway. Maybe you could be my servant for a little while?”_

_Gwen released her claws and circled, placing each paw softly, testing. She looked at the owner of the lap and gave her prettiest blink. “Seeing how my other servants are occupied, I have no one to love me, but you.”_

_Her purring grew deeper._

_Gwen knew her own charms. The human had no choice but to pet her. It shifted into a more comfortable position, one thigh rising while the other shimmied over, but it made no movement to evict Gwen from her comfy perch. Gwen knew best how to keep the human in place so it wouldn’t get bored and push her to the floor. She would tell a story that no human could resist hearing. A story of love and romance, of death and intrigue, of cats and kittens and even adorable little puppies… well, maybe not too many puppies—they definitely weren’t Gwen’s favorite creatures._

_When the human petted her consistently and showed no sign of moving, Gwen began to tell her tale, “Once, I was queen of all that I surveyed. I had beautiful living quarters, and I was served fresh meat every day with sparkling water in a crystal bowl. I had a view of the harbor from my favorite windowsill. Best of all, my servant cherished me with all his heart. I was a good queen, of course. I didn’t complain when he locked me in our bedroom every time the telephone rang or when there was a knock on the door. I knew my servant was only doing what he could to protect me. That’s him, the blond one over there with his head thrown back in laughter.”_

_The owner of the lap smiled, as if it understood how important Gwen’s favorite servant was to her._

_“As my servant, he does a pretty good job,” Gwen said. “I want him to be happy always, so he’ll keep treating me well. I’m sure it’s hard for you to believe it now, but there once was a time when he wasn’t so happy. He faced a dangerous situation where he stood to lose everything that was important to him. I’m talking about_ yours truly, _of course. I was nearly made into a servant myself—never to see my Arthur again. Luckily for us, that’s the day when the beautiful boy on a magical machine came into our lives. He’s the skinny one with the big ears and the strong calves. Don’t let him fool you—he’s warm to sleep next to at night. I love him almost as much as I love Arthur. He’s sweet and funny. He’s quick with the cat treats, and he doesn’t mind if I get into the ‘nip every once in a while. I can’t believe that I almost didn’t get to meet him at all. It’s a long story, but it started just like this..._

Merlin pedaled down Columbus Avenue, flying past cars that had stopped for the red light. He passed over the Mass Pike with its slow crawl of commuters headed for the suburbs. At the intersection, he skidded to the corner before riding against the flow of traffic through Park Plaza. He ignored the honking horns and turned right on Boylston, slowing only at the sight of a cop parked in front of La Teatro. Not wanting to be hassled for disobeying traffic laws, he stopped for the yellow light, his rear tire squealing before he touched his right foot to the pavement. 

Traffic was heavy on Friday afternoon, when most people left the city early to get a jump on their weekend. Merlin privately winced at the idea. It wasn’t too long ago that he would have had plans for the weekend too—heading north to the mountains, or south to the Cape, or maybe staying in town to catch a game if the Sox were in town.

Sadly, those days were behind him now.

Merlin knew he wasn’t going to make any fun plans for this weekend… or on any _other_ day off, for that matter. Not since Cenred dumped had him three months ago, after deciding he needed more attention than Merlin could give him.

“You ought to get a cat, Merlin,” Cenred had said before slamming the door for the last time. “That’s about all you have time for, and it’s obvious that you love cats more than you love me anyway.”

Maybe it would have hurt less if Cenred hadn’t sarcastically thrown in the patronizing, “It’s not you, it’s me,” for good measure.

The bastard broke Merlin’s heart. 

Merlin took a swig from his water bottle, tilting his head back to squirt some of the cool liquid onto his face. The haze of exhaust from the automobiles and the summer heat made his skin grimy and slick with pollution and sweat, not to mention the SPF 50 sunscreen that melted into his pale skin as he rode all day. He bit at the back of his hand to tear off a fingerless biking glove with his teeth and yanked down the zipper of his Lycra shirt to let a spray of water splash onto his chest. 

It wasn’t until he replaced the water bottle in its holder and stretched his fingers back into his glove that he noticed he was being watched. Across Tremont Street, the redheaded guy in the Subaru was definitely giving him the eye.

Merlin slid sunglasses to the end of his nose to get an unobstructed view of his observer when a pick-up truck pulled into the lane beside him. Without any warning, a German Shepherd in the passenger’s seat lunged out of the open window and began to bark its head off at Merlin. 

Frigging dogs. 

Merlin shoved his glasses back into place and sliced across three lanes of traffic as soon as the light turned green. 

“That’s a good way to get run over, asshole!” a motorist shouted. 

Merlin resisted the urge to flip the driver off. He didn’t spare a backward glance as he cut through The Common and pumped his way up Beacon Hill.

=^.^= )

Merlin skidded through the garage door to Kilgharrah Kourier’s, his rear tire leaving a long black path of rubber across the cement floor, adding to the hundreds of other marks that had turned the gray concrete to black. With one hand, he hoisted the bike onto the rack so Leon, the maintenance guy, could work his magic on it over the weekend. He pulled the strap of the messenger bag over his head and walked through the sliding glass doors into Freya’s office. The blast of cold from the air-conditioning washed over him, raising goose pimples on his arms and fogging his glasses.

He removed his helmet and lifted the sunglasses from his sweaty face to his forehead. It looked like most of the riders for Kilgharrah Kourier had made it back to the office already. Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan stood behind Freya as she intently stared at her computer monitor, engrossed in something. 

Merlin tossed the canvas bag onto Freya’s desk. 

Gwaine raised his fist. “What’s up?” he asked. 

“Fucking hot,” Merlin said, punching Gwaine’s fist and nodding toward his other co-workers. “What’s going on?” 

“Oh, they’re just watching that stupid cat,” Gwaine scoffed.

“Gwen?” Merlin asked, his eyes brightening at the thought. He scrambled behind Freya’s desk to get a look.

The cat on the screen was no stranger to Merlin. He had been watching Gwen for months. Cenred had bitched at Merlin for his YouTube-downloading, Twitter-following, Tumblr-squeeing about the cat time and time again. But with Cenred gone, Gwen received Merlin’s undivided attention. He was obsessed with her. The way she pounced on a box, no matter what size. The way she sprang though the air and penetrated the empty Mountain Dew case with her body, sliding across the floor with her hind legs akimbo.

“Watch this, watch this!” Elyan urged.

Merlin watched.

It couldn’t be.

A double penetration?

“Yes,” Merlin shouted with glee as the cat propelled herself through two empty soda cases.

Gwaine rolled his eyes. “What kind of loser watches cat videos? It’s not normal,” Gwaine grumbled while the others cheered.

Normal or not, Merlin loved to watch Gwen’s antics. He was thrilled that a new video had been uploaded to YouTube. He couldn’t wait to get home so he could watch it again, without Gwaine’s snickering to spoil his enjoyment of everything Gwen could do. It would probably be the most excitement he’d have all weekend.

=^.^= )

Merlin closed his apartment door behind him and kicked off his biking shoes, leaving them on the mat in the entryway. Instead of heading directly to the shower, he dove for the air-conditioner and turned it on full blast.

The summer heat had made the tiny studio apartment into a stifling inferno. His skin hot and sticky from the day’s work, Merlin couldn’t wait to peel off his shirt. The sweat-beaded skin of his back instantly felt cooler without the heat trapped against it. He scratched at his chest, the dark hair matted and itchy from his day riding the streets. 

With the air-conditioning unit blowing a cool stream of air through the room, Merlin flopped down on the futon, intent on resting for a bit before having a good wank in the shower. That redhead in the Subaru had reminded him of what he was missing. If not for that barking dog that startled him, Merlin might have considered making a move…

Who was he kidding?

He still wasn’t over Cenred—not by a long shot.

It had been years since Merlin had thought about sex with someone other than Cenred. And reminiscing about his ex was still much too painful. For now, he’d have to be satisfied with his own hand and his stray thoughts about any of the thousands of men he encountered as he made deliveries through the streets of Boston. It was utterly tragic.

Merlin slid his hand over his hardening cock as it pushed against the stretchy fabric of his shorts. He decided not to wait for the shower. He rolled the waistband over and shoved the shorts down his thighs. The hum of the air-conditioner drowned out the sounds of the city beyond Merlin’s four walls.

The rush of air was strong enough to make the flimsy curtains wave back and forth, a slow dance against the single window of Merlin’s apartment. He traced a finger around each of his balls, enjoying the way the cool air dried the bike-seat flattened hairs into springy curls. He stopped to tug his shorts below his knees, and spread his legs so he could give his boys more breathing room.

He pushed the thought of Cenred out of his head and focused on the redheaded stranger in the Subaru instead. He imagined the things they could have done together if Merlin had summoned the nerve to approach him.

Merlin traced the vein on the underside of his cock with a long finger. With his thumb, he collected the clear droplets of anticipation that seeped from the tip and pushed his foreskin back. A low sigh escaped his lips as he fisted his cock in the cool artificial breeze.

He imagined what it would feel like to have someone else’s hand on him as he writhed on the futon, or some stranger’s cock nudging him open. Maybe that guy in the Subaru? Merlin’s breath quickened and the muscles of his belly became tighter with each stroke of his fist.

Without a care about neighbors who might hear him above the hum of the air-conditioner, he moaned loudly as he milked himself, the thick splash of come splattering across his quivering belly. He barely had a chance to wind down when he felt the buzz of his cellphone vibrating against his ankle.

He wiped his hand on his bare chest and fumbled around for the phone. When he saw the caller’s name, he briefly thought about not answering, but instead he just wiped off his hand a little bit better and tried to put the memory of his wank behind him before answering.

“Hi Mom,” he said.

“You’ve finally decided to answer your cellphone? To what do I owe the pleasure?” Hunith sounded a bit exasperated.

“Cut it out,” Merlin sighed.

“Or maybe you’re not Merlin at all?” Hunith asked, a laugh in her voice. “I demand to know what you’ve done with my son.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “I was going to call you back tonight.” 

“A likely story,” Hunith said. “I left you half-dozen messages. What if it were a real emergency?” 

“If it was an emergency, you would have said so in your message, or you would have texted me,” Merlin said, tugging his shorts back up his hips to cover himself in the presence of his mother’s voice. 

“Don’t be silly, you know I have no idea how that works,” Hunith said. “The next thing, you’ll want me to _tweet_ something to you.”

“I’ve shown you how to do it a dozen times now. I’m afraid you’re hopelessly stuck in the twentieth century,” Merlin said.

“I think you’re right,” Hunith said. “I’ll never be able to get used to your fancy gadgets.”

Merlin let a span of silence pass. He listened to his mother’s breath, soft and vibrant.

“Is everything okay? There’s nothing wrong with Aithusa?” Merlin asked, concerned about the pet he had to leave in his mother’s care when he moved to the city and discovered that cats weren’t allowed in the studio that he and Cenred rented.

“No, Aithusa was sitting on my lap a moment ago, but when I screamed in surprise that you actually answered my call, he took off and ran out the cat door,” Hunith said. “He’ll probably bring me back a mouse, the little darling.”

“He’s a good hunter,” Merlin said. He imagined Aithusa’s loud purr and soft white coat, how proud the cat would be when he deposited a dead mouse at Merlin’s feet. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t seen his cat for a few months, he still found occasional stray white hairs on his clothing, a reminder that he did have a pet, even if he didn’t get to see him every day. “What’s going on?”

As he waited for his mother’s reply, he hoped she wasn’t going to bring Cenred up again. He glanced around the barren apartment. The oversized room should seem so much larger with all Cenred’s stuff gone, but the walls closed in on Merlin when he talked to his Mom. It had been hard enough breaking the news to her that he was suddenly single. Hunith had raised Merlin on her own. She hadn’t seen Merlin’s father since they had rolled around in the grass at a Grateful Dead concert back in 1988. She had repeatedly cautioned Merlin about the difficulties of going through life alone, even without a youngster to raise. Merlin dreaded the thought of her pressing him for more details, or worse—asking when he was going to find somebody new.

“I have wonderful news,” Hunith said. “At least I hope you’ll think it’s wonderful.”

Merlin sat up on the futon and slid his feet onto the floor.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s about me and Iseldir… we’re going to be married,” Hunith said.

“That’s great,” Merlin said, adjusting the waistband of his shorts. Iseldir and his Mom had been dating for a couple years. He seemed like a nice guy and he had treated Hunith with great affection when they had met Merlin and Cenred for dinner at Hunith’s home in Connecticut last spring. “Congratulations! If you’re sure that’s what you want, then I’m very happy for you.”

“Thanks so much, sweetie. I was hoping you’d be glad. For the two of us,” Hunith said.

Merlin could feel the joy emanating from her voice. “So, when is the big day? Am I invited?”

“Of course you’re invited, silly,” Hunith said. “In fact, I’d like to ask you if you’ll walk me down the aisle. Tell me that you will? Please!”

“I’d be honored,” Merlin said.

“We’re thinking of having the wedding around Christmas. That way, most of Iseldir’s relatives and everyone from our family will be in town already, and it won’t put people out too much.”

“That sounds absolutely perfect, Mom,” Merlin said. “I’m already looking forward to it.”

Hunith excitedly chattered away about the wedding, gossiped about the neighbors across the street whose house was for sale, and described how Aithusa was finally finished shedding his winter coat.

When the call ended, Merlin fell back onto the futon.

This was far worse than Hunith asking him for more details about Cenred, or whether he had found somebody new. 

Hunith was getting married in only four and a half months. All Merlin’s relatives would be there. His old Aunt Alice would want to know why he didn’t have a girlfriend. He’d have to explain it to her for the tenth time. Then he’d feel terrible, like he had to apologize for who he was. His Uncle Bart would avoid him like the plague, as if being gay was something contagious. Every other relative this side of the Appalachians would want to set Merlin up when they realized he was single. They’d pester Hunith, who was supposed to be enjoying the happiest day of her life. No, Merlin knew only one way to avoid the drama of dealing with his relatives. He couldn’t go alone.

Merlin would need a date for the wedding.

=^.^= )

When Gwaine asked him to go clubbing on Saturday night, Merlin only had to pause the video of Gwen’s leaping antics and look in his half-empty closet to see if he had a clean shirt to wear before he agreed. A night of drinking at The Fritz might be just what Merlin needed to start his search for a date.

Only an hour earlier, Merlin had been considering Debbie the eHarmony gal who _loved every kind of cat_ as a possibility. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the genitalia that interested Merlin most, although the cat-love was a definite checkmark in her plus column. 

Still, Gwaine’s idea was better. 

It had been quite some time since Merlin hit the local gay bar as a single. The need to at least make an _attempt_ to hook up with someone prickled Merlin’s skin as if he had something to prove. Finding a date to bring to his mother’s wedding would be more challenging, but he knew that he needed to take baby steps to get there. 

And, if you couldn’t count on your favorite co-worker to be your wingman, who could you count on? 

Accompanying Gwaine, with his lustrous locks and abs of steel, could only help Merlin’s chances at scoring, even if the simple act of going out in public had been difficult for him in recent months. The happy couples he saw everywhere were a depressing reminder of love lost. 

The bar was only slightly crowded by the time Merlin and Gwaine ordered a couple of Sam Adams Summer Ales on draft. The Sox were playing the Yankees in New York, so the tourists stayed away from the local places where Gwaine and Merlin hung out, migrating instead to Kenmore Square where they could catch the game in the shadow of the hallowed Citgo sign. 

Merlin and Gwaine found a spot along the glass wall that separated the outdoor seating from the air-conditioned interior. The bar had so many flatscreens that every patron could feel like they had baseline seats at Yankee Stadium. 

The Sox were down 2-4 when Beckett was pulled out in the bottom of the sixth. The lackluster game gave Merlin the opportunity to scope out the other sports fans who decided The Fritz was better than spending an evening at home. 

“Who’s that over at the end of the bar?” Merlin asked, nodding his chin toward a guy who seemed to be staring them down. 

“Where?” asked Gwaine, looking across the room. 

Although Merlin tried to direct Gwaine’s attention as inconspicuously as possible, the sexy stranger caught Merlin’s eye. 

He was tall, dark, and handsome, clad in black jeans and a light pink polo shirt. Merlin shivered as he watched the stranger take a long pull off his bottle of Smithwick’s. 

“Oh, that’s—” Gwaine snapped his fingers, trying to recall the man’s name. 

“Come on Gwaine. You know everyone,” Merlin said, without taking his eyes off the man who now sauntered over to them. 

“Good to see you again, Gwaine. Who’s your friend?” the stranger asked, his hungry gaze raking Merlin up and down. 

The guy’s eyes were like molten pools of chocolate, drizzled with warm caramel. And his hair had the same sleep-tousled look as Gwaine’s did, only it looked a thousand times better on him. 

“Lance! Lance from the Fancy Feast commercial,” Gwaine finally coughed up the name. He clapped Lance on the shoulder. “This is my friend Merlin.” 

“Fancy Feast commercial?” Merlin said, awe-struck by the thought that Lance might like cats too. 

“Yes, we worked together when I was doing some modeling,” said Gwaine. 

“I love cats!” Merlin blurted out during the utter silence that permeated the crowd as Ellsbury hit a long fly ball that looked like it would almost make it into the Monster seats. 

“Hah! I was sick for a month after that job,” Lance dismissed Merlin’s gushing with a wave of his hand. “I’m so allergic, I should have bought stock in Zyrtec.” 

Ellsbury rounded first as the ball fell short of the Green Monster. The crowd moaned its disappointment as the announcer proclaimed, “Out at second base!”

=^.^= )

Merlin stripped off his clothes and settled in for the night. He lay on is belly with his arms folded beneath his chin and his laptop perched on the pillow in front of him. The screen displayed the YouTube channel exactly as he had left it when he went to meet Gwaine. Gwen was mid-pounce, about to leap into the cardboard box which, if you asked Merlin, was much too small to contain her.

This latest video was box-heavy. Some of Merlin’s other favorites featured Gwen jumping into bags, Gwen playing with catnip mice, and Gwen chasing feathers attached to a stick. 

Merlin wriggled beneath the thin flannel sheet he had used to cover himself, reaching back to tug it over his shoulders. The night was far too hot for pajamas, even with the air-conditioner running, but he liked the feel of soft fabric on his skin. 

He watched some of his favorite Gwen moments that he had stored on his hard drive. 

Gwen leaping into a box that was too small. 

Gwen leaping into a box that was too big. 

Gwen leaping into a box that was perched on its side. 

Gwen chasing a stuffed mouse that was tied to the end of a toy fishing rod. 

Merlin shifted his legs and dug his knees into the futon. He reached up to pause the video so he could study the frame. For some reason, he had always assumed Gwen’s owner was a woman. She was a female cat; the connection seemed unremarkably logical, just as Merlin’s cat, Aithusa, was male. 

Merlin hit Ctrl+ and enlarged the image on the screen until it was nearly pixelated. 

“No,” he muttered as he studied the screen. 

He fiddled with the plus and minus controls until he got the image to appear as clear as possible. 

“That’s not a woman’s hand at all,” Merlin breathed with exasperation. 

It was a _man_ who owned Gwen, if cats could really be _owned_ by humans. A man with impeccably manicured nails and good taste in furniture. And, of course, an undeniable love for his cat and her marvelous antics. He’d have to be quite obsessed with the feline if he spent every spare moment filming her in action and then uploading it to YouTube, where millions of fans anticipated Gwen’s latest stunt. 

It hadn’t occurred to Merlin that Gwen’s owner could be a man. It was fun for Merlin to think about someone who loved cats as much as he did. He let the video play again and watched it until the end. Yawning at the end of the long day, he began to close the lid to his laptop, but despite his fatigue, he scanned the video again for the frame that best featured Gwen’s owner’s hand. When he isolated it, he took a screenshot of the image and saved it to his hard drive. But first, he set the picture as his background for his computer so every time he opened the lid, Gwen would appear, along with her mysterious owner’s hand that held a toy to lure his adorable cat. 

Merlin closed the lid, pushed the laptop aside and slumped down into his futon, shoving his pillow under his head. 

If only Gwen’s owner were a man that Merlin would have a chance to meet. 

Merlin sighed and pushed the thought out of his mind. Even if he did meet Gwen’s owner, there was little chance that he would be gay, single, or that he would be attracted to a bicycle messenger who was depressed over getting dumped by his boyfriend. 

No matter. Despite everything Cenred took from Merlin when he moved out and ended their relationship, Merlin still had some of his imagination left intact. Tonight, Merlin slept with sweet dreams of Gwen’s mysterious owner dancing in his head. Of course, Gwen was following him as he happily dragged a cat toy behind him.

=^.^= )

Monday morning arrived gloomy and gray with a haze of humidity that hung in the air and soaked Merlin’s clothes before he even arrived at work. He met Gwaine in the Starbucks on Congress Street. As usual, Gwaine flirted with the barista, sharing his own special brand of inside jokes that made her smile shyly as she put the finishing touches on his quad venti skinny iced caramel Macchiato.

“I don’t know why you bother flirting with her,” Merlin said sullenly as he and Gwaine trotted through Downtown Crossing on their way to the office of Kilgharrah Kourier. 

Gwaine sipped his coffee concoction. “It’s my destiny to leave a trail of broken hearts behind me,” he said. 

“You’re a real nice guy, Gwaine,” Merlin said, rolling his eyes. “No wonder you’re such a hit with ladies and gents alike.” 

They paused at the crosswalk, waiting for the walk sign with a horde of office workers .

“Some were born to break hearts,” Gwaine said, slapping Merlin on the back. “Others were meant to have their hearts broken.”

“You wouldn’t be referring to me,” Merlin snorted into his vanilla latte extra extra as they turned onto Tremont Street.

“Oh, no, not you,” Gwaine said, holding the door to Kilgharrah Kourier open for Merlin. “You’re a heartbreaker, for sure. I still can’t believe you turned down a perfectly good lay, just because he was allergic to cats. That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Merlin snorted and watched Gwaine lick the whipped cream from the end of his straw before depositing his empty cup in the trash, the door closing behind them.

“But that’s just the point,” Merlin pleaded as he stepped into the cool air-conditioned office. “He was allergic to cats. Some things are deal-breakers, you know? Besides, I’ll know when the right one comes along.”

“But you don’t even have a cat!” Gwaine said.

“Stop arguing, boys,” Freya quipped from behind her desk. “What’s wrong, Merlin?”

“The boy needs to get laid,” Gwaine said.

“I do not!” Merlin protested, his tips of his ears flushing red.

“Well, if you played on the other team, I’d go out with you,” Freya said. “You’re still adorable, even if all you talk about is that Gwen cat.”

“Exactly!” Gwaine said.

Merlin rolled his eyes.

Freya handed each of them a messenger bag. “These are all loaded up for you,” she said. “Now get on your bikes and ride.”

Merlin and Gwaine wandered past Freya’s desk and entered the work area to pick up their overhauled bikes. Old man Kilgharrah always insisted that his messengers leave the bikes at the garage on the weekends so Leon could tune them up before the messengers hit the road on Monday mornings.

Kilgharrah was a crotchety bastard. The messengers all figured that the weekend tune-ups were more about keeping them from using the bikes during their time off than ensuring the aging vehicles were safe to ride. Providing a helmet for each rider, as well as a cell phone and a basic repair kit were the limits of his generosity. Kilgharrah certainly didn’t care about his employees’ well-being. He just cared about keeping the company afloat.

Merlin grabbed his bag and read the manifest that described his route for the day.

Kilgharrah Kourier made very few deliveries over the weekend. Business picked up dramatically during the week. Besides being sworn process servers, messengers often ran into situations where clients needed original documents signed, or had important paperwork inadvertently left behind in one location when it was needed in another. Sometimes it seemed like a matter of life or death to the clients when they called. And sometimes, when a package needed to be brought from one hospital to another, it actually _was_ a matter of life or death. Merlin hesitated to think of what might be in those heavy refrigerated packages he sometimes shuttled between Mass General and Boston Children’s Hospital. In any case, Merlin treated each pick-up and delivery as if it were an emergency. Clients liked it that way.

“Off to the courthouse,” Gwaine announced, tucking his manifest into the pocket of his messenger bag. 

“Cleveland Circle,” Merlin groaned as he lifted his bike from the rack. He’d need more caffeine if he was going to start his day with a long climb from the harbor to the highlands, even if it was only an elevation gain of a hundred feet.

“Lunch at The Common?” Gwaine asked.

“I’ll meet you by the Swan Boats,” Merlin said, straddling his bike as Gwaine pedaled away.

Just then, the sliding glass door opened and Freya shouted from her desk. “Gwaine!” 

“He just left,” Merlin called back to her, donning his helmet and snapping the buckle on his chinstrap into place. 

Freya ran through the door waving a large manila envelope in her hand. “Merlin, can you head over to The Devonshire for a drop-off?”

“Sure, it’s almost on my way,” he said, taking the envelope from her. “It’ll give me a little warm up before I head over to Brookline.” 

“Thanks,” Freya said, patting him on the head. 

Merlin glanced at the envelope as Freya disappeared through the sliding glass doors and into her office. 

He flicked the envelope once, and mumbled the client’s name, “Pendragon,” before he stashed it into his bag and sped out the door.

=^.^= )

The Devonshire was literally around the corner from Kilgharrah Kourier. Merlin didn’t give a second thought as to why this Mr. Pendragon would be getting a courier delivery instead of walking around the corner on his own two lazy feet. He was obviously a member of the upper crust, accustomed to having things done for him, rather than going out of his way to do things for himself. The building was posh. He had been inside it once before when a wealthy heiress was getting a divorce. The apartments there reeked of old money with spacious floor plans, gourmet kitchens, marble bathrooms, a 24 hour concierge, and amenities galore. No mere mortal could afford such lush accommodations with a million-dollar view of the city from nearly every window. This Pendragon fellow must be someone very important.

Merlin gave his armpits a sniff. He decided he smelled as good as he could after walking to work with Gwaine in the blistering August heat. This Pendragon guy was lucky Merlin was showing up at the start of the day, rather than after eight sweaty hours of riding through automobile exhaust.

A doorman guarded the entrance of The Devonshire, preventing ne’er do wells from gaining access to the building. Merlin leaned his bike against a light pole and removed the chain and lock from around his waist. When the bike was secure, the doorman showed Merlin to the revolving door while giving him a friendly nod. 

His official Kilgharrah Kourier messenger bag opened doors for him in world-class cities, he chuckled to himself. In the lobby, he stopped at the desk and waited while a security guard buzzed the Pendragon apartment to inquire about Merlin’s admittance.

Merlin peeked into his bag to check the envelope for Mr. Pendragon’s apartment number and waited in the lobby for the elevator. When it arrived, he stepped back to allow a pair of businesswomen to exit before he hopped into the mirrored car. 

The elevator speedily deposited him on the fortieth floor. He stepped out into the hallway, brushing past more of The Devonshire’s residents as they boarded the elevator to start their days. 

He walked down the corridor, the golden numbers gleaming from each entryway. Number ten on a door to the left, number eleven on the door to the right... it only took him a moment to get oriented, his feet sinking into the plush carpeting. He followed the numbers, noticing the tasteful lighting and elegantly framed artwork. He paused at an oil painting whose slashed lines and smatterings of paint looked like a trio of dogs chasing a woman in a dress. Modern art. He couldn’t figure it out, yet he suspected that The Devonshire paid big bucks for such an atrocity to grace their walls. 

The golden numbers that marked each door rose in increments as Merlin traveled further down the long corridor. Finally, he arrived at number seventeen as denoted on his envelope. 

He cleared his throat and rapped the doorknocker four times in quick succession. 

He took a step back and folded his hands in front of him while he listened to the approaching footsteps. He heard the lock being unlatched. The handle turned and the door edged open a crack. He supposed Mr. Pendragon had peered through the peephole to get a glimpse before opening the door to a stranger. Merlin was relieved to think that he didn’t look like much of a psycho to his clients. 

When the door slid open, a gust of air-conditioning escaped from the apartment, chilling Merlin from head to toe. 

The first thought that popped into Merlin’s head was that this client was far too young to be Mr. Pendragon. The Mr. Pendragon who lived in this apartment would have to be a wealthy investor or CEO of a successful company, surely not the gorgeous specimen of a man who stood in front of him. 

The second thought that popped into Merlin’s head was that maybe the guy who opened the door was a fashion model. That might explain the elite address. And it would definitely explain the bronze skin and the high cheekbones and the artfully highlighted hair.

“Yes? Can I help you?” the golden god asked, with raised eyebrows. His eyes were a deep blue, somewhere between the sky above North Conway and the waters of the Caribbean.

Merlin’s mouth hung open at the sight of the thin line of flesh that appeared at the gap between the hem of Mr. Pendragon’s white tank top and his Harvard crimson sleep pants, which were slung low enough to reveal a trail of dusty golden hair that disappeared below his waistband.

“Uh,” Merlin said.

Taking in Merlin’s messenger bag and bike shorts, the man at the door asked, “Do you have something for me? You are the courier that the doorman just called about, right?”

“Uh, yes, I have a delivery for Mr. Pendragon,” Merlin said, fumbling with the strap of his messenger bag, getting it caught on his helmet as he tried to lift it over his head.

Mr. Pendragon folded his arms across his chest, which only made the hem of his shirt rise higher to reveal more of the glorious skin that was certain to become an integral part of Merlin’s wank fantasies from this day forward. Yes, this Mr. Pendragon must be a fashion model. That would explain the finely chiseled jaw and the hard biceps that glowed in the sunlight streaming through the enormous window that ran the length of the living area. Merlin salivated a bit, still struggling with the bag.

“Actually, I’m all but certain the _Mr._ Pendragon you’re looking for is my father, _Uther_ Pendragon, and not me. I’ve never received a delivery here before,” he said.

At that moment, Merlin finally untangled the clasp of his helmet from the strap of his bag, causing his helmet to fall to the floor and bounce across the polished hardwood.

Merlin couldn’t have been more embarrassed than when he was doored by Mayor Menino’s car in front of City Hall last autumn. The mayor himself had helped Merlin up from the road, straightening out his twisted handlebars and brushing him off before mumbling for Merlin to remember this kindness in the next election.

“Do you need any… help?” Mr. Pendragon asked when Merlin dove across the floor to retrieve his bouncing helmet before it could scratch the finish.

“No, I’ve got it,” Merlin said, blushing furiously as he stood up again and stepped back into the doorway, helmet in his hand. He juggled it to his other hand so he could open the clasp on his bag and withdrew a large envelope. “I’m here to drop this document off for a Mr. Uhh… I can’t make out Freya’s handwriting… it looks like a U… Uther… well, it could be an A… R… Arthur? Her writing is truly atrocious… I don’t know how she stays employed. Uh… it could be for you?”

Mr. Pendragon leaned forward to look at the address on the envelope. “Arthur. It is for me after all,” he said resolutely.

Merlin tapped the label with his index finger. “Looks like it’s from Taylor, Ganson, & Perrin. Care of Morgana Pendragon. Estate settlement, it could be important.”

Arthur snatched the envelope from Merlin’s grasp. “I don’t see how my personal matters could possibly be any of your concern,” he said, nostrils flaring.

“Oh,” Merlin said, stepping back. He honestly wasn’t trying to pry, but knowing his clients’ business came naturally to bicycle messengers, especially when Merlin had something to gain by getting to know this particular client better. “Who’s Morgana?”

“My sister,” Arthur said, gritting his teeth. “Do you always pry into your clients’ business?”

Merlin’s face fell.

Arthur tore the envelope open and slid the documents into his hand. His eyes scanned the papers for a few moments. He sniffled loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Merlin thought Arthur might begin to cry. Arthur’s eyes welled and he inhaled a large gasp of air as if he were going to begin sobbing at any moment.

Merlin bit his bottom lip. 

At that very moment, Merlin remembered the first rule of being a bicycle messenger: never get emotionally involved with a client.

=^.^= )


	2. Chapter 2

Fortunately, for Merlin’s sake, the second rule of being a bicycle messenger was that he didn’t earn enough money to have to follow the first rule of being a bicycle messenger. Well, at least not all of the time—especially not when your client was someone as gorgeous as Arthur Pendragon. 

“I’m sorry to hear you’ve suffered a loss in your family,” Merlin started. “Was the death recent?” He kicked himself for not having any tissues in his bag. He always kept a packet of them on-hand because sometimes he needed them for when he encountered damsels in distress along his delivery route. He had just used the last of them when a law-breaking female burst into tears after Merlin announced that she had just been served. Perhaps if he offered Arthur a tissue, as well as a shoulder to cry on, he’d be able to comfort him while he sobbed.

Arthur sneezed.

Maybe he wasn’t going to cry after all.

Merlin was confused. “Are you alright?” 

“Excuse me for a moment. Step inside. You’re letting all the cool air escape, and besides, there’s something about you…” Arthur’s eyes narrowed.

“Merlin,” Merlin said.

“Merlin...” Arthur said, drawing out the first syllable of his name for a ridiculously long time. “There’s something about you, Merlin… are you sure you haven’t brought in pollen or some kind of tree mold from outdoors?” Arthur asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” Merlin replied, giving himself a sniff for good measure.

“Very well, excuse me for a moment,” Arthur nodded before setting the envelope and documents on the hall table and disappearing into the next room.

Merlin stepped inside the doorway and let the door close behind him. The apartment was much larger than Merlin would have thought. Arthur headed toward what must have been the kitchen. If Merlin tilted his head to peer around the wall of the entryway, he could catch a glimpse of what appeared to be dining chairs arranged tastefully around a small table with a hanging lamp overhead.

Arthur blew his nose loudly.

Merlin almost got caught looking when Arthur rounded the corner from the kitchen and walked toward him waving a box of tissues in one hand and holding an unused tissue in the other.

“Allergies,” Arthur explained, handing the papers to Merlin. 

“The story of my life,” said Merlin as he watched Arthur slide the documents back into the envelope. 

“What?” Arthur asked.

“Nothing,” Merlin recovered.

“You can take these back to Morgana’s attorneys. I won’t be signing anything,” Arthur said. He pressed the envelope to Merlin’s chest.

“I understand,” said Merlin, dismayed by Arthur’s attitude, but unwilling to end their acquaintance there. He figured the least he could do was to try to get this gorgeous creature to use his services regularly—Gwaine’s route be damned. “And if you should require Kilgharrah Kourier’s services in the future, please feel free to ask for me.”

Arthur scowled at him. “From what I’ve seen so far, you’re the most incompetent bicycle messenger I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. I hope I don’t suffer such a misfortune again.” 

“Uh, alright then,” Merlin said. “Have a nice day.”

Merlin shoved the envelope back into his bag and gave Arthur one last grin before retreating from the cool apartment.

As Arthur closed the door behind him, Merlin could have sworn he heard a cat’s meow.

=^.^= )

“He was gorgeous,” Merlin said, fishing into his container of Pad Thai with a pair of chopsticks. “Blond, blue-eyed, and intelligent too. I think he went to Harvard.”

“And what gives you that idea?” asked Gwaine.

“Well, he was wearing a pair of Harvard sweatpants,” Merlin said confidently.

“Not the sweatpants, Merlin- look around! Half the homeless guys wandering around The Common are wearing Harvard sweats,” Gwaine said between bites of sandwich. “Either Harvard or MIT.”

Merlin’s brain was running on overdrive, hoping he could convince Gwaine to give up the Pendragon account from his route. When riding through Brookline this morning, he got the idea to butter Gwaine up by bringing him one of those disgusting tongue sandwiches from Zaftigs that he was so fond of. So what if Brookline was a few miles away from where they normally met for lunch? If Merlin was going to get a chance to peek further into Arthur’s luxury apartment and get a chance to peek into Arthur’s Harvard sweatpants, by God, he was going to have to convince Gwaine that giving up the account was for his own good.

“So, if he needs a pick-up, you’ll let me do it, won’t you?” Merlin asked.

Gwaine’s bare feet twitched in the grass. He turned his face to the sun and grinned.

“Gwaine!” Merlin leaned forward from the tree he was sitting against to give Gwaine’s elbow a shove.

“I don’t understand you, Merlin,” Gwaine said. “You blew off Lance, but you’re interested in this guy? He has allergies too!”

“He’s not necessarily allergic to cats. It could be ragweed or tree mold,” Merlin said hopefully.

“Right. Whatever you say,” Gwaine said smugly. “Maybe I’ll have to meet him myself first to see if he’s worthy of your affections. At least I could find out what sets him off sneezing.”

“I don’t think he’s allergic to cats. I swear, I heard a cat meowing as I left,” Merlin said.

“Really?”

“It was just a faint meow. It sounded like it was coming from inside the apartment,” Merlin assured Gwaine.

“If it was his, why wouldn’t you have seen the cat when he opened the door? You know how cats are. They usually run to the door to rub all over a visitor, especially if they are allergic. Either that, or you catch a glimpse of them running away when their owner opens the door to the big bad stranger,” Gwaine said.

“Come on, Gwaine,” Merlin laughed. “If there’s a call, you’ll let me take it, or no more tongue sandwiches for you.”

Those words earned Merlin a glare from a woman who was shepherding a group of noisy youngsters toward the Make Way for Ducklings sculpture.

“Well?” he prodded Gwaine with a chopstick.

“How can I say no?” Gwaine said. He crumpled up the paper wrapper from his sandwich and tossed it into his bag.

“Thanks, Gwaine,” Merlin said. He got to his feet and extended a hand to help Gwaine up. “You won’t be sorry. Hey, if he has a friend, maybe I can fix you up with him?”

“I’ll just settle for sandwiches,” Gwaine said slipping on his bike shoes and getting onto his bike. “For now, at least.”

Merlin slid his messenger bag over his head and fastened his helmet.

“Safety first, fun second,” he said, giving Gwaine a fist bump.

As they rode off in opposite directions, Merlin wondered how long it would be until he got a call from Freya that would send him to Arthur Pendragon’s again.

=^.^= )

That night, Merlin puttered around his apartment. There had been no call from either Arthur or Morgana Pendragon to request his services, but he was confident that Gwaine would pass the job on to him when the request came through.

In the shower, he turned the hot water on full blast and let the pounding spray ease the aches and pains from a day spent riding the streets. Attorneys and business owners, artists and architects, none of the city’s inhabitants had intrigued him like Arthur Pendragon.

He supposed it was high time that someone intrigued him.

When he was clean, he wrapped a towel around his waist and let the droplets from his hair course down his back. The steam from the shower had blurred the mirror on the medicine cabinet, so he couldn’t see his reflection. It was just as well.

Merlin grabbed the waste basket from the floor and perched it on top of the sink. He opened the door of the medicine cabinet and surveyed the remains of what Cenred had left behind. Shampoo samples and a spare razor, a half-empty tube of hair gel, a bottle of vitamins with only one capsule remaining to rattle lonely against the plastic.

It was time he made a clean break.

One by one, he tossed the items into the trash. A part of him cringed to think that he was being wasteful, but the likelihood of his using the items Cenred had left behind grew slimmer every day. Even slimmer than the chance that Cenred would someday return to him. That was a lost cause now, although Merlin had once held out hope.

No, it was better this way, Merlin thought, as he listened to the containers of herbal remedies and miniature spools of waxed dental floss bounce off the side of the waste basket.

He should have done this weeks ago. He had already wasted almost the entire summer moping around, feeling sorry for himself.

When he was satisfied that he had gathered all Cenred’s toiletries, he went to the closet and rummaged around for a pair of shorts and a T-shirt to throw on.

Cenred had taken most of his belongings when he left, and Merlin had long boxed up the items that Cenred had left behind—a pair of old sneakers, a few CDs with cracked cases, and a Waterpik that took up most of their available space on the bathroom counter. Aside from the toiletries, he knew of only one last piece of Cenred’s clothing that still haunted their apartment.

He pulled the T-shirt out from where it was hidden beneath a tattered bathrobe he had meant to throw away. He tried to remember why Cenred had a Pussycat Dolls T-shirt in the first place. Maybe something from his days in the closet when he tried to convince his parents he was straight by following the lingerie-clad songstresses.

Merlin held the shirt up to his nose and inhaled.

It didn’t even smell like Cenred anymore.

He tossed it into the waste basket from the bathroom and brought the whole mess out to the dumpster in the alley. Better to be done with it once and for all.

When he closed the door to the small apartment, a wave of relief washed over him. Somehow, he had turned the page and a new chapter of his life could begin. There would be no more wallowing over having nothing to do but hang out with Gwaine. And no more crying over the spilled milk that was his relationship with Cenred. His search for a date to accompany him to his mother’s wedding was on!

The first conquest: Mr. Arthur Pendragon. And if Merlin’s interest was refused, he’d move on to the next man who put a sparkle in his eye.

Merlin had a lot of catching up to do. But for now, he flipped open his laptop, checked his email, and fell in love with Gwen all over again.

=^.^= )

“Get over here, Merlin. I have just what you wanted,” Freya yelled. She typed away at her keyboard and hit the print button like a maestro conducting an orchestra. Kilgharrah Kourier was as busy as ever and Freya was handling calls and texts as quickly as they arrived.

“What’s that you’ve got?” Merlin asked as he rode through the door, his messenger bag bursting at the seams.

“Hold please,” Freya said into her headset. She turned around and tore the label off the printer. “A pick-up at Pendragon’s. You wanted that one, didn’t you?”

“Oh yeah,” Merlin said. “I’m glad you remembered.” He positively tingled as he dumped the contents of his messenger bag onto Freya’s sorting table while she continued to take calls from clients. The day had been as hot as it was busy. Earlier in the morning, Merlin had passed Gwaine on Washington Street, but they were in too much of a hurry to decide on lunch. Gwaine had simply taken his hands off the handlebars, pointed at his imaginary watch, and threw his hands in the air while he pedaled. They’d catch up later, Merlin supposed. For now, a visit to the cool luxury of The Devonshire was just what Merlin needed. He’d try to act a little more suave this time… at least he’d keep a tight grip on his bike helmet.

Freya slapped the label onto an empty manila folder. “Here you go,” she said, handing him the envelope before turning her attention to the heaps of incoming paperwork that Merlin had deposited. She shook Merlin’s messenger bag to make sure that nothing was left behind, no envelope or receipt stuck in a crevasse or against a seam. When she was certain the bag was empty, she reached behind her desk to retrieve a large plastic bin full of envelopes, some empty, some stuffed fat with documents. “And here’s the afternoon batch for you.”

“Thanks,” Merlin said, watching her pack the envelopes into his messenger bag. He reached into his pocket and felt around for the Powerbar that he had stashed there this morning. It had melted into a soft glob from the heat of his thigh and the hot summer sun. Merlin peeled the package open and bit off a hunk of liquefied goo. It would have to suffice for lunch today.

“You do know those aren’t good for you, right?” Freya asked, a look of disgust on her face as she slid the manifest into the outside pocket of Merlin’s bag.

“They’re tasty, though. Next time, you can make me a nice salad for lunch if it will make you feel any better,” Merlin laughed as he heaved the full bag over his head.

The phone at the switchboard began to ring again.

“Salad? You think I have time for salad? Good luck,” Freya said. She was already taking another call as Merlin rode out the door.

=^.^= )

Merlin was thrumming with energy. He pedaled up to The Devonshire and locked his bike to the light pole. The same doorman greeted him again. Merlin had committed the number forty-seventeen to memory. He waited while the doorman buzzed up to Arthur’s apartment.

“There’s no answer,” the doorman said. “Are you sure you’re not mistaken?”

“That’s odd,” Merlin said, tapping his envelope, which clearly said _Pendragon_ on the label. “Can you try it again?”

The lobby was nearly empty at this time of day. A couple boarded the elevator, pushing a large potted plant on a cart. A maintenance man swept the marble floor, making sure to get the dirt from the corners where the revolving door had scattered debris from the sidewalk.

“There’s still no answer,” the doorman informed Merlin.

“You’re sure, it’s Arthur Pendragon, forty-seventeen?” Merlin insisted.

The sound of a man clearing his throat echoed in Merlin’s ear. He turned his head to see what sort of rude person would do such an annoying thing. To Merlin’s surprise, Arthur stood there behind him.

“Arthur?” Merlin said. He couldn’t keep the grin from his face.

“I knew my ears were burning for a reason,” Arthur said.

“You’re just who I’m looking for,” Merlin said, motioning to the security guard.

“Me,” Arthur asked, none too impressed. “Why?”

Merlin couldn’t begin to guess where Arthur was going. His tight jeans hugged his hips nicely and the black fabric of his shirt clung to all the right places, as far as Merlin could see. A hint of dusky hair was visible on his chest where his aviators tugged his neckline into a vee.

“You called for a pick-up. I’ve got the envelope right here,” Merlin held the envelope out for Arthur who took it from him and examined the label.

“Wrong,” Arthur said. “There’s no _Morgana_ Pendragon in The Devonshire. In fact, I think if you paid closer attention to your job, you’d see that this is addressed to Morgana at her condo in the South End.”

Arthur slapped the envelope back into Merlin’s hands.

Merlin couldn’t believe it. How could his manifest get so screwed up? He scanned the envelope for the name and the address.

“Oh,” he said, now recognizing that he had instructed Freya to let him handle anything to do with the Pendragon’s account. It was an honest mistake on her part. Morgana was a _Pendragon,_ after all. Merlin kicked himself for being so enthusiastic in his desire to see Arthur again.

“Oh?” Arthur asked.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin bit his lower lip. “It was my mistake. I’ll get right over to her place to pick up whatever she has for me. So sorry to have inconvenienced you.”

“I’m sure she’ll be pleased when you arrive there late,” Arthur called after him. “I wouldn’t expect a Christmas bonus from your employer this year. That is, if you still have a job by then.”

Merlin clenched his fists as he walked away, wanting to leave The Devonshire before he could be further embarrassed. He wished he could come up with a clever defensive retort. It was a simple mistake, something that could happen to anyone. He didn’t have to put up with Arthur’s taunts. When he reached the revolving door, he turned to say something that he probably would have regretted in the long run, but when he made eye contact with Arthur, he noticed that Arthur was smiling smugly at him.

Instead of following through with his thoughts, Merlin waved to Arthur and the doorman, saying, “Have a nice day, gentlemen,” before exiting the lobby.

=^.^= )

“It was the most embarrassing moment of my life!” Merlin said as he and Gwaine rode out the door at the end of their workday.

“Not quite what you expected when you learned you had a pick-up on the Pendragon account,” Gwaine confirmed.

Merlin wanted to scream. They turned onto Tremont Street where the rush hour traffic had jammed the road for as far as the eye could see.

“I suppose it was more my fault than Freya’s,” Merlin said. As they rode through the city, the waves of afternoon heat shimmered off the road like a mirage.

“Glad you’re not planning to rip Freya a new one. I know what happened to the last messenger who tried that,” Gwaine said.

“Yeah?” asked Merlin.

“Let’s just say it wasn’t pretty,” Gwaine shook his head.

“No, I don’t suspect it was. No worries. Really, I know she was only trying to help,” Merlin said. “I don’t want her to give the account to anyone else next time, so I’ll play it cool. Man, you should have seen my face when it dawned on me that I was at the wrong Pendragon’s. I wanted to crawl under the desk.”

Gwaine reached over and slapped Merlin on the back. “There are worse things that could happen. I assume you recovered nicely, since you think there’ll be a _next time?”_

Merlin came to a halt at the red light that stopped them at the crosswalk. He balanced as long as he could on his two tires before having to touch a foot to the sidewalk. “He smiled at me, Gwaine,” Merlin said. “I think there’s definitely going to be a next time, whether he complains about my shoddy work or not.”

“That’s the spirit,” Gwaine said. “When you fall off that bike, get right back on and keep pedaling. You’ll get there eventually.”

“And that’s not even the best part,” Merlin said.

“What are you talking about?” asked Gwaine.

“He was wearing a black shirt,” Merlin said, popping a wheelie like an idiot on the crowded sidewalk.

“What’s the big deal about wearing a black shirt? I’m wearing a black shirt,” Gwaine said, taking a moment to gesture toward his own shirt, which was, indeed, black. Then, he asked quietly, “Did he have dandruff or something? You think your chances with him will improve if he has some kind of social stigma?”

“Nope, not dandruff,” Merlin said, positively beaming. “Something far more interesting than that, my friend.”

“Well don’t make me guess,” Gwaine said, shoving Merlin as they rode side by side.

“I swear, he had a few tiny strands of hair on his shirt,” Merlin said.

“Really? He’s going bald?” asked Gwaine. “Maybe your chances are better than you think.”

“It wasn’t _his_ hair,” Merlin said. He wondered why he hung around with Gwaine when he could be so stupid sometimes. “It was _cat_ hair.”

“Cat hair?” Gwaine looked stupefied.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure it was cat hair,” Merlin said. “I didn’t live with a white cat all my life to not recognize what white cat hair looks like on a black shirt.”

“So he does have a cat there?” Gwaine asked.

“It’s almost certain. I’m going to find out for sure next time.”

=^.^= )

“Freya, are you sure there’s nothing for me at The Devonshire? It’s been days,” Merlin pouted in a way that he was sure Freya would find irresistible.

“Quit your whining, or I won’t page you when the call comes in. It’s not like he’s waiting for an organ transplant,” Freya said from her command post in front of her computer screen.

“Hey, don’t be so snarky. I think you owe me one after that case of mistaken identity earlier this week,” Merlin said.

The phone rang and Freya threw Merlin an exasperated look before she tapped a dangerously manicured fingernail to the button on the telephone console. “Kilgharrah Kourier: We don’t fly by night—unless you want us to.”

Merlin sulked, while Freya took the call. He let the front tire of his bike bump against her desk as she typed the client’s information into the computer.

“Yes, we can be there by noon,” Freya said.

 _Thump, thump, thump,_ the rubber bounced off the battered laminate of Freya’s desk where a hundred other bike tires had left their marks over the years.

“We’ll just bill your account,” Freya said as she glared at Merlin. “All right, thank you. Goodbye.”

_Thump, thump, thump._

“Knock it off,” Freya said when she finished the call. “Besides, Gwaine made me promise to page you if a call comes in from Prince Charming, so just chill out.”

“I was only asking, darling,” Merlin said with a small smile.

“You gay guys are all the same. Every one of you believes that you’re irresistible to women,” Freya sighed.

“It’s not bragging, if it’s true,” Merlin reminded her with a wink.

Freya smiled sweetly and flipped him the bird.

Merlin turned his bike around and yanked the handlebars until his front wheel left the ground. Pedaling toward the sliding glass door, he managed to trigger the electronic eye at the last moment before bringing the bike onto two wheels and heading out the door and down the sidewalk.

The morning flew by with a trip over to Beth Israel Hospital for a pick-up, a loop back to Mass General, and a straightaway down to the golf course in Brookline. Merlin wondered if he should pick up another tongue sandwich for Gwaine, but decided that twice in the same week might be overkill.

Each time he felt his cellphone vibrate, he got his hopes up that Freya was calling him with a request from the Pendragons. He willed himself to relax and stop worrying about it. He tried daydreaming as he pedaled through the city streets on his rounds.

For the first time in months, Merlin’s eyes were open to the possibilities of life after Cenred. There was a cute guy getting into a taxi on Arlington Street, a pair of students playing Frisbee on the grass in front of The Prudential all hot and sweaty with their shirts flung aside in the summer heat, and a bodhran-playing homeless dude who Merlin could swear winked at him.

When Merlin found himself near the MSPCA on Huntington, he decided that it was time to give his ass a break from the bike seat. He slid his bike into the rack outside and made his way through the doors of the adoption center. He had been a frequent visitor to Angell Memorial Hospital and the MSPCA’s adoption facility in recent months. Usually he had a delivery to make, but today was different. He waved to Gilli, the guy who manned the front desk. The antiseptic air wafted to his nostrils and his ears rang with the distant yips of barking dogs. He wasn’t heading in that direction. Instead, he followed the signs that led to the cat adoption rooms.

There, he mingled with the brown tabbies and striped tigers. More cats than humans were under the shelter’s roof no matter how busy they got with customers.

He admired a pair of men who had apparently chosen a smoky gray longhair to be their companion. They spoke to each other in murmurs as they made their decision among the cat crates and scratching posts.

Merlin smiled as he watched them negotiate with each other. Their concern for the tiny beast gave him a large measure of hope. 

There had to be more men who loved cats. If Merlin couldn’t have Arthur Pendragon, he could at least dream of a guy like Gwen’s owner—or perhaps someone new who would share his love of all things feline.

Just then, Merlin’s phone began to vibrate.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Merlin answered the phone excitedly. “I just had a feeling it would be.”

“You have a strange way of answering the phone, young courier,” old man Kilgharrah’s voice boomed from the speaker.

 _Oh shit!_ Merlin paced up and down the shiny linoleum floor, recognizing that he needed to recover quickly from this blunder or he’d be out of a job. “Hello, Mr. Kilgharrah. Just something I was speaking to Freya about earlier. Sorry about that. What can I do for you today?” he tried his best to sound professional.

“Freya had to step away from her desk for a moment and I got a request for your services at forty-seventeen Devonshire. I take it you know the place? Freya lists you as the client’s regular courier,” Kilgharrah said.

Merlin’s stomach was in a knot as he tried to process the information. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I’m on my way.”

Merlin hung up from the call, headed out the animal shelter door, and hopped onto his bike without so much as a wave to Gilli. The Devonshire was about three miles away. Thankfully, it was all at a slight downhill grade.

He cruised down Beacon Street hoping the surge of motion-induced breeze would wash some of the stink out of his clothes. Tonight was laundry night and he had pulled on a Red Sox shirt before he had left the apartment this morning, hoping the rain would hold off until the day’s deliveries were finished. It was hell to ride in a cotton shirt when it was raining, but the soft fabric made the air feel cool against his skin, especially on the downhill stretch. 

Merlin’s mind raced more quickly than his bike wheels could turn. That’s it, he told himself, get all your nervousness out of your system before you show up there looking like a lunatic. He let his hands leave the handlebars and dangle by his side. His legs pumped faster, the pavement sliding neatly below the rubber as he helped the force of gravity lead the way downtown. He flexed his fingers as the breeze slipped between them, evaporating the sweat.

After dodging an inordinate number of pedestrians for an early afternoon, Merlin arrived at The Devonshire. He locked his bike and strode through the cool lobby. This time, the doorman was able to secure Arthur’s permission to allow Merlin to ride to the fortieth floor. Knowing the way on his second visit, he barely had time to gather his thoughts before he stood at the Arthur’s door again.

He removed his helmet, straightened his back, and took a moment to smooth the hem of his Red Sox shirt neatly against his shorts. The icy doorknocker, chilled from the air-conditioning, slid into his fingers. He knocked a few times, trying to sound confident as he announced his presence.

Merlin couldn’t help but smile when Arthur came to the door.

“Not you again,” Arthur said. “Are you the only employee of Kilgharrah Kourier, Merlin?”

Merlin’s stomach did a little somersault, knowing that Arthur remembered his name.

“Just your luck, today,” Merlin shrugged.

Arthur was dressed to kill, in a light gray suit and a silk tie that looked like it was patterned with hundreds of images of Garfield the Cat. Arthur’s appearance was a far cry from the casually lounging sex-god of earlier in the week. He just seemed to look better and better each time Merlin saw him.

As soon as the door opened, Merlin made certain to pay close attention to Arthur’s apartment. He peered inside, trying to get a glimpse of a cat’s antics that Gwaine insisted he’d see if a cat was in residence. To his right, the room opened into the living area with the long span of windows facing the harbor. To his left, there was the hall table and a short flight of carpeted stairs leading upward before twisting to the left. Beyond the stairwell, the kitchen was only partially in view and he could see into the open dining area if he leaned over far enough.

“Are you looking for something?” Arthur asked running a hand through his tussled hair.

“No, it’s nothing… it’s silly really,” Merlin said, trying to contain his excitement as his eyes scanned Arthur’s suit for further traces of white fur.

Arthur squinted at him. “Do you find something humorous in all of your clients’ homes?”

“Hah,” Merlin laughed, fidgeting. “Not really, not at all. It’s just… I thought you had a cat.”

Arthur’s face dropped. “A cat? Why would you think that?”

“I thought I heard a cat’s meow when I was here before,” Merlin said, toying with the strap of his messenger bag. He immediately wished he hadn’t brought the cat into the conversation. Clearly Arthur was uncomfortable about it, as evidenced by his bewildered expression. Merlin hoped he hadn’t startled him into revealing something about himself that he wanted to keep a secret. He wondered if The Devonshire even allowed their residents to own cats, not that it would matter if a man of Mr. Pendragon’s status were to sneak an animal into the building.

“I may be a man with many interests…” Arthur said, taking a step closer to Merlin.

Merlin opened his mouth, then tried without success to get the look of utter delight off his face.

“But I’m afraid pet ownership isn’t one of them,” Arthur said as his feet came to a stop.

The remark put Merlin at ease, although it shattered every illusion he had conjured up about Arthur as a cat lover over the past few days. He didn’t bother to ask about the cat hair he saw on his shirt. Maybe he was mistaken about it after all. Perhaps Arthur had a white-haired aunt or a fetish for stuffed animals with hair that resembled white cat fur. Merlin raised his hands in a casual surrender, only realizing how close they were standing when the tip of his finger grazed the lapel if Arthur’s jacket. “You’re right, it’s entirely inappropriate of me to even wonder such a thing about a client.”

“Believe me, I understand completely,” Arthur said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “I’m sure that I’d be curious about my clients if I were in your position. It’s only human nature.”

“Well, we’re not supposed to intrude on a client’s private matters. We’re just supposed to pick up and drop off, nothing personal,” Merlin said.

“Oh, I see. So if I were a messenger, I shouldn’t remark that the Sox are doing terribly this year,” Arthur said, gesturing knowingly at Merlin’s shirt.

A wave of nervous laughter rolled through Merlin. “I think it’s because of the new manager, but yes, that’s it exactly. See, you’d catch on quickly as a bike messenger. You’d get all sorts of useless information since you already have that unobtrusive questioning thing down pat.”

“I’d just need to learn to ride the bike,” Arthur said, taking his hands out of his pockets.

Merlin became so caught up in the thrill of seeing Arthur again, he nearly forgot why he was there in the first place. He simply stood across from him in the entryway, grinning like an idiot.

The sound of a horn bellowing from a cruise ship in the harbor startled Merlin back to the task at hand.

“Um, you requested a pick-up today?” he asked, sorry to end their easy conversation.

“Oh, yes,” Arthur said, unfolding his arms to throw his hands in the air. “Let me get it for you.”

Merlin stepped inside the beautifully appointed apartment for the second time, as Arthur disappeared around the corner, leaving him to wait. He noticed that the long span of windows was open today, revealing the narrow balcony beyond. If he took a deep breath, he could swear that he smelled the ocean.

Outside, the distant harbor was dotted with the white hulls of powerboats as they crisscrossed the sparkling water. Merlin could hear the seagulls through the open windows along with the clang of a ship’s bell and the loud rumble of a speedboat as it outpaced the traffic on the water.

“Here you go,” Arthur said, handing Merlin a large manila envelope.

“Thanks,” Merlin said, checking the address label that was already in place. He was able to gain a bit more control over himself on this visit. He even stopped himself from blurting out for the second time that the documents were to be delivered to Taylor, Ganson, & Perrin, the attorneys who specialized in estate settlement.

“These will be going back to Morgana,” Arthur said.

“Morgana, your sister,” Merlin nodded. The words escaped before he could catch himself and he fought to keep from seeming too forward. “I remember you sent the documents back to her last time. In the South End.”

“You have a good memory, Merlin,” Arthur said. “Perhaps you’re not completely useless after all.”

“I try,” Merlin said sheepishly.

Arthur looked at Merlin warily. “This may be only the first of many documents that will change hands over this issue of my father’s estate,” he said. “I trust that your service will be able to handle future deliveries between my office and hers.”

Merlin grimaced. “Your father?” he asked.

“My father is recently deceased,” Arthur said. He gave the envelope a shake before handing it back to Merlin.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “I didn’t realize the estate settlement matter involved someone so closely related to you.”

“His death was not unexpected,” Arthur needlessly continued. “And frankly, it wouldn’t be so bad if my own sister weren’t out to claim most of his fortune for her own. I always suspected she was up to no good. Always coming around his bedside, sneering behind his back, conspiring with his nurses.” 

Merlin seemed to be winning with his effort at making small talk, so he pressed his luck, “Had your father been ill for long?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Arthur. “He suffered a stroke. And he must have had some grave mental health issues. Especially if he insisted on allowing Morgana to determine how his children would divide his earthly possessions.”

“Well,” Merlin said, struggling to find something that would put Arthur at ease with him. “I hope the timely delivery of documents will help your case.”

Arthur nodded, tight-lipped.

“I’ll get going with this, then. You look like you’re on your way somewhere yourself?” Merlin asked, feeling stupid for asking it as soon as the words left his mouth. Arthur was dressed impeccably, right down to the gold cufflinks and the Rolex that peeked out from beneath his cuff. Nobody dressed like that every day, at least nobody that Merlin knew on a first-name basis.

“I am, in fact. I’m meeting Morgana in a half hour,” Arthur said, checking his watch. “It’s probably overly-optimistic of me to believe we’ll be able to resolve this issue amicably, but I’m willing to try. I’ll catch the elevator down with you.”

Merlin could only think it was a positive sign that Arthur was so talkative regarding his feud with his sister. He wondered which of his father’s possessions had caused such a rift to develop between the siblings. He thought it would be best to keep his thoughts to himself and enjoy the shared confines of an elevator with Arthur for now. He hoped there would be plenty of time to find out what made Arthur tick during future document deliveries. He slid the envelope into his messenger bag. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said.

Arthur took one lingering look around the apartment, nodded, and stepped around Merlin to open the door.

Together, they boarded the elevator for the ride to street level. As the elevator stopped to pick up more passengers on its descent, Merlin let his back rest against the mirrored wall. Arthur made room for other riders, an easy presence at Merlin’s side.

When the other passengers disembarked for the parking garage entrance on the second floor, Merlin pushed himself off the wall to take advantage of the additional space. Arthur remained exactly as he was, never moving out of Merlin’s immediate vicinity. Merlin grimaced at their reflection on the mirrored door of the elevator as it closed. The two of them couldn’t have been dressed more differently, nor did they look as if they belonged together in the least. The improbable notion of it made Merlin’s eyes twinkle.

They finally came to their destination and strode through the lobby, Merlin walking in step with Arthur. The doorman opened the glass door and shepherded Merlin and Arthur outside.

The bike lay waiting, chained to the pole where Merlin had left it. Merlin ran his fingers through his hair before donning his helmet while Arthur nodded to the doorman, who moved instantly to hail a taxi.

Merlin secured the chain around his waist and mounted the bike, standing with one foot on a pedal and the other on the ground. To his surprise, Arthur leaned toward him and whispered, “I’ll see you around.”

Merlin licked his lips. “Good luck with your sister,” he said. When the taxi pulled alongside the curb, he watched Arthur nod to him again before entering the taxi and speeding down the city street.

=^.^= )

“It’s about time you got here,” Merlin said. He threw open the door and tugged Gwaine’s arm, pulling him into his apartment, completely disregarding the fact that he was carrying a box containing a large spinach and eggplant pizza with extra anchovies.

As bicycle messengers, they needed to keep their salt intake up so they would naturally consume more water to stay hydrated. Tonight’s beverage of choice was not their typical watered-down Gatorade or sugary caffeinated treat, but a special brew that Percival had concocted in the microbrewery he had established in his parents’ basement.

Since Percival was new to brewing, his fellow messengers were often the first place he offloaded some of the less-than-savory batches. Free beer was free beer. Percival’s sub-par samples quenched thirst as well as a pricy Guinness, so that’s what Merlin and Gwaine used to accompany their pizza while they watched the game.

“What’s the hurry?” Gwaine asked, kicking off his shoes and dropping the pizza onto the low table in front of the futon. “The game doesn’t start until seven.”

“Come look at this,” Merlin said. He was certain that he was beaming as he dragged Gwaine over to his laptop that was perched on the kitchen counter.

“No! Not that cat again,” Gwaine yelped when he saw Gwen’s screen-saving image pouncing across the screen.”

“Look, Gwaine. This is important,” Merlin pleaded.

“What the hell could be so important about a cat?” Gwaine asked before settling in on a barstool.

“Here,” Merlin said, starting the video. “Watch this.”

Merlin loaded the video and Gwen flew across the screen, her pudgy body prancing on four impossibly swift legs. Into the box, she jumped. An occasional murmur from her human roommate could be heard through the laptop speakers. His hand appeared at the screen’s edge. He held a cat toy in his hand, a plush mouse that he rotated with his fingers. 

“What? It’s a cat. It’s that same Gwen cat you like so much. So what?”

“Listen,” Merlin said. “Listen closely to it.”

Gwaine hit the replay and turned up the volume.

“I hear some mumbling,” he said.

“No, not that!” Merlin berated him. “In the background! Listen to the sound in the background.”

Gwaine started playing the video over again. Both men hunched over the screen, their ears pricked for whatever Merlin thought he had heard before Gwaine arrived.

“There it is! Did you hear it?” Merlin bounced up and down excitedly.

“It sounded like a ship’s horn? Something on the water, like you would hear on a cruise,” Gwaine looked at Merlin questioningly.

“Yes, I knew I wasn’t imagining things!” Merlin could not have been more thrilled. “Gwen must live near the ocean.”

“So? What does that prove?” Gwaine asked skeptically.

“Gwaine,” Merlin stood with his hands on his hips. “Have you ever been curious about _anything?_ ” 

“This is more like an obsession than curiosity, I would say,” Gwaine said, heading for the pizza.

Merlin tried to not act disappointed. He grabbed two beers out of the refrigerator and slumped down onto the futon next to Gwaine. He turned on the television just as Price took the mound.

“When I figure out which exotic seaport Gwen calls home, I’ll be sure to _not_ invite you on vacation there with me,” Merlin said.

Gwaine cracked his beer open and struggled to capture the foam that overflowed from the top of the bottle. He put his feet up on the table and grabbed a handful of napkins.

“What ever happened to that Pendragon guy? I thought he was your newest obsession?” Gwaine asked.

“Oh, he is,” Merlin said, between bites of pizza. “I saw _Arthur_ again yesterday,” Merlin said, his face flushing as he spoke Arthur’s name.

“ _Arthur?_ You’re on a first-name basis. Do tell,” Gwaine said, hoisting another slice. “Did you find out if he has a cat?”

“No, but I think he was coming on to me,” Merlin said. He snagged an anchovy off the slice of pizza before Gwaine could get it from the box to his mouth.

“Well done!” Gwaine pumped his fist.

“He leaned over and whispered in my ear—did it right on the sidewalk in front of his building. No flies on him,” Merlin said.

“And—” Gwaine said.

“Nothing more to tell, except that he looked even more gorgeous in a suit than he did in the Harvard sweatpants or the black shirt with the cat hair on it,” Merlin said, flipping on the television. 

With Pedroia and Crawford already on base and Big Papi at bat, Merlin and Gwaine’s focus turned to the game.

=^.^= )

“Merlin? Is everything alright? Merlin?” Hunith sounded as if she truly had been caught off-guard.

Merlin couldn’t suppress the bright smile that crossed his face when he heard his mother’s surprised voice. He really loved her and he knew she had done whatever she could to make his childhood happy. It couldn’t have been easy to be a single mother, but you’d never know it from Hunith’s cheerful attitude.

“Calm down,” he said. “I’m just checking in to see how your wedding plans are coming.”

“Are you certain that you’re _my_ son? I’m hanging up now to call the police. Someone has obviously stolen my son’s cell phone, and now they are using it to play tricks on his poor old mother,” Hunith said.

“You’re being ridiculous, Mom. Just learn to appreciate it for what it is,” Merlin said. 

“Okay, I’m sitting down now. So really, why are you calling?” Hunith asked.

“No reason,” Merlin said. “Can’t a guy call his mom every once in a while?”

“You’re not in any trouble? You’re not in jail?”

“No!” Merlin said.

“Do you need money?”

“No, Mom. Things are a little tight since I’m on my own, but no. I wouldn’t take money from you anyway. I’m supposed to be an adult,” Merlin went to the refrigerator to survey the contents there, deciding immediately that it was time to make an actual shopping list. He might as well multi-task, if Hunith was going to continue with her line of questioning. 

“You’ve met someone new!” Hunith said excitedly.

Both the refrigerator door and Merlin’s mouth clamped shut.

Merlin could swear he heard a cricket chirp somewhere in Quincy.

“Bingo!” Hunith exclaimed.

Merlin felt his face flush from the bottom of his chin to the tips of his ears.

“Um… it’s nothing, really,” Merlin said, fidgeting with the magnets on the refrigerator door.

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing. I can hear it in your voice. Who is he?” Hunith asked.

“It’s just one of the clients I deliver to,” Merlin said shaking his head, as if the motion would convey the insignificance of this particular client to his mother.

“Are you dating him?” Hunith asked.

“No, no! Nothing like that,” Merlin said. “It’s just… I don’t know. You know how you can sense when someone likes you? They get all sparkly around you and they make you feel special?”

“Don’t think I’m so old that I can’t remember those days. It wasn’t too long ago that I fell head over heels with Iseldir. Of course I can remember,” Hunith said.

“Good,” Merlin said. “I’m glad.”

“I do worry about you. I know you’ll be careful, Merlin, but it’s so easy to think something is real, when it’s not. I hope you won’t get your heart broken again—”

“Mom! It’s just a cute guy. That’s all! Now, how is Aithusa doing without me? Catch any mice lately? And how are those wedding plans coming along?”

Merlin’s diversion was a success. Hunith happily told him about all the plans she had made. Since Christmas fell on a Tuesday, the date had been set for the previous Saturday, the first full day of winter. Both Hunith and Iseldir’s families were from Connecticut, so it served them well to keep the festivities local. Relatives from out of state would be traveling home for the holiday anyway, so the happy couple had wisely planned to hold their ceremony at a convenient time of year.

Merlin could hardly believe that winter would ever arrive, such was the heat of the city he rode through every day. The summer seemed to stretch on endlessly, with cooler nights becoming a distant memory of when he and Cenred had hung their jackets on the hooks near the door and a bevy of scarves and hats filled the trunk in the hallway.

There was no sense in reminiscing about Cenred now. The seasons had changed since they were together, and they would change again soon for Hunith’s wedding. For the first time in a long while, Merlin was content. He had friends, a job, mother who cared about him, and a hot guy for a client who provided wank material for his midnight solo sessions. He had turned the corner. The only thing better would be if he had a new boyfriend at his side and a cat on his lap.

=^.^= )

Merlin had made his third run of the day between Beth Israel and Mass General. He hoped the sets of X-rays would do the trick for the poor souls who relied on the films to be delivered. Although he knew what it was like to strain a calf muscle or roll an ankle, fortunately he had never suffered anything that couldn’t be remedied with a handful of Ibuprofen and a bag of frozen peas.

Freya had sent Gwaine off to the North End for the afternoon. Merlin expected him to have stuffed himself with pasta and gotten drunk on red wine by the time he returned to the dispatch office. The impromptu violin serenades that the Italian eateries were famous for were Merlin’s favorite thing about visiting that part of the city.

A sprinkle of rain had begun to fall when Merlin found himself between deliveries. He pedaled over to the SPCA, locking his bike beneath the awning that covered the walkway.

“Looks like we’re in for a downpour,” Gilli said, his faced pressed to the window when Merlin entered the lobby.

“It might be a wet afternoon,” Merlin said. “I’m not sure if that’s good or bad for your business.”

“The end of summer is a lousy time to adopt a pet,” Gilli said leaning back, his breath fogged on the glass. “It could go either way with the rain.”

“Oh?” Merlin asked. He had stopped in front of a Plexiglas-encased play area, where a pair of black kittens engaged in mock warfare, making leaps at each other with outstretched paws.

“The bad weather could ruin people’s outdoor plans,” said Gilli with a smile. “Hopefully, they’ll decide to come here.”

Merlin turned to watch the raindrops slide down the windowpane. The soft yips of dogs in the kennel made him grateful that the animals were safe and well cared-for here, instead of roaming the busy streets where they could get killed, or worse—abducted by the product testing division of a pharmaceutical company or used in some kind of cult ritual. Merlin shook his head. He clearly paid too much attention to those PETA alerts. A rumble of thunder sent the dogs howling.

“On the other hand, the thunderstorms frighten dogs and they might bolt from their owners or escape from their yards. Then, we’ll see an influx of a different sort,” Gilli said. “Strays.”

“I hope that means happy owners reunited with their lost pets,” Merlin nodded, smiling at the playful kittens.

Gilli grabbed a pair of toys that looked like miniature fishing rods with feathers attached to them by a length of string. “I’ve seen you before, visiting the shelter,” Gilli said, handing a toy to Merlin. “Do you have a pet?”

Merlin dipped the feathers into the kittens’ enclosure to get their attention. “I have a cat—Aithusa. He’s exactly the opposite of these two. He’s solid white,” Merlin said. “He lives with my Mom in Connecticut. He’s mine, but I just can’t have him where I live now.”

“Landlord?” asked Gilli knowingly as he flicked his fishing rod, making the feather flit through the air. 

The kittens leaped at the imaginary bird.

“Yes, I searched everywhere, but it’s so difficult to find an apartment where pets are allowed. They’re charging more than two grand for an unfurnished studio. Too rich for me,” Merlin said. “Besides, it would be unfair for me to bring him to the city. He loves going outdoors too much.”

“At least your cat is taken care of,” Gilli said. “Animals are relinquished to us every day by owners who either move to a place where pets aren’t allowed, or can’t be bothered to take them when they move.”

“That’s awful. I could never do that,” Merlin nodded sympathetically as a black kitten chased the feather attached to Merlin’s string.

“Well, I suppose all cats can’t live the life of Gwen,” Gilli said.

“Ah,” Merlin said, turning to Gilli, “I see you know about the queen of the Internet.”

“Who doesn’t?” Gilli laughed, making the kittens chase the feather as he trailed it across the floor of their enclosure. “But if she were my cat, I don’t know that I’d put her on the web like that.”

“No? Why not? She seems well fed and well cared-for. She’s certainly doesn’t lack entertainment with all those boxes,” Merlin laughed.

“That’s true. But I’d worry about a cat like that getting into the wrong hands,” Gilli said thoughtfully.

“What do you mean? Do you think she’d be stolen?” Merlin’s eyebrows shot up.

“No, not stolen in the sense you’re thinking,” Gilli said. “She could be stolen in the sense of having her life taken from her.”

Merlin looked at Gilli questioningly, his feather coming to a standstill, losing the kittens’ attention with the inactivity.

Gilli stopped playing with his feather. “Maybe you remember _Morris_ the cat. He was the spokes-cat for 9-Lives cat food?” Gilli asked.

“The big orange cat? I remember him,” Merlin nodded. “He was the model for Garfield the comic strip cat, I think.”

“Morris’s owner worked hard to market the cat as the image of 9-Lives—television commercials, radio, public appearances… he was even on Oprah. The cat made millions for his owner,” Gilli said.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Merlin said, resuming his play with the kittens. “Or is there?”

“There was a slight problem,” Gilli said. A crash of thunder echoed, sending the unseen dogs into a barking frenzy. “When the original Morris died of old age, his owner searched everywhere for his replacement—even all the SPCAs and Humane Societies. And those were the days before the Internet. He had to do it by phone, and then he had to wait for the photographs of similar looking cats to arrive in his mailbox for him to decide whether they had a chance at replacing Morris.”

“I can’t begin to imagine the amount of work that must have taken,” Merlin said.

“He flew all over the country, visited countless animal shelters, until he found a cat that looked exactly like his beloved Morris,” Gilli said, his tone somber.

“I bet he offered a small fortune to the shelter where this Morris look-alike was found,” Merlin said. The black kittens mewled in frustration when he raised the feather out of their grasp.

“He did,” Gilli said.

The shelter lobby was silent, except for the windswept rain that that pelted the windows.

“And—why do I get the feeling that there’s more to this story?” Merlin asked, turning to Gilli.

“My grandmother worked here at the shelter then. The cat she loved… _Lucky_ was his name before he made it big with the endorsements and the advertising campaigns,” Gilli said. “My grandmother couldn’t have a pet where she lived. Lucky was like a child to her. He lived here at the shelter. Of course, he wasn’t caged. He roamed freely as if he were an ordinary pet. My grandmother loved him. He wasn’t meant to be adopted by someone else.”

“But your grandmother… she must have been happy for Lucky to go to a real home?” Merlin asked softly, the feather toy coming to a standstill.

The revelation hit Merlin like a ton of bricks.

He felt sick.

“Oh,” He said. “All that travel… the endorsements… the television appearances…. It was nothing like a _real home_.”

“No. Nothing like a real home at all. He spent his life traveling from one media circus to another,” Gilli said, replacing his toy in the bin outside the kittens’ enclosure. “My grandmother died of a broken heart. There are some things more dear to people than their own relatives. For my grandmother, Lucky was her life.”

“I’m so sorry,” Merlin said, handing his toy back to Gilli.

“Me too,” Gilli said. “That’s why I work here—that’s how I _came_ to work here. I want to protect animals against such exploitation.”

“And you do good work,” Merlin said. “It’s a noble cause.”

“Imagine if a manipulative businessman got ahold of Gwen,” Gilli said. “I shudder to think. In this day and age, with her videos going viral, and all of her followers in place already. Move over, Nike and Google… if a marketing pro wanted the best ad campaign of the twenty-first century, Gwen is the answer.”

“And it would bring only heartbreak to Gwen’s owner, if Gwen’s future happiness was mishandled like Lucky’s,” Merlin said in a deep reverie.

The silence was broken when the doors to the lobby burst open and a group of a dozen children squeezed into the entryway, herded by their chaperones.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Gilli said, slapping his hand to his forehead. “I’m giving a tour to the YMCA camp today.”

The children squealed at the sight of the kittens. They ran up to the enclosure and pressed their grimy fingers against the Plexiglas, their muddy feet and dripping clothes sullying the lobby floor. The adults tried to keep the children quiet, with whispers to respect the kittens’ personal space and reminders of how they practiced their indoor voices earlier in the day. It was to no avail. Like most people, they couldn’t contain their squee when confronted with a pair of adorable kittens.

“It looks like you’re going to have your hands full,” Merlin said.

“I’m used to it,” Gilli laughed.

“I’d best be going now, anyway. It looks like the rain has finally stopped,” Merlin said.

“I’ll see you later,” Gilli said, turning his attention to the task at hand and the visitors that awaited his attention.

Outside, Merlin swiped an elbow across the bike seat, damp with raindrops. He pedaled away, hoping that Gwen would always be safe from any misguided entrepreneurs.

=^.^= )

“But, these are for _this_ Friday night,” Merlin said. He took a step forward and held the pair of tickets up to the light, as if better lighting would confirm that they were the real thing.

“The first game of a three-game series,” Arthur said, folding his arms across his chest.

Merlin could feel Arthur’s eyes on him as he stood in the entryway to his apartment. He had long since given up on trying to look fresh when he arrived at The Devonshire to pick up more of Arthur’s documents. If Arthur was going to be interested in him, he’d have to accept the fact that life as a bicycle messenger didn’t allow for midday showers. That didn’t stop Merlin from at least removing his helmet and fussing with his hair a bit before knocking on Arthur’s door when he was called for yet another pick-up.

“Tigers,” Merlin huffed out an excited breath. “And I’m pretty sure Verlander is pitching.”

“I don’t follow the pitching rotations that strictly,” Arthur said, slumping backwards to lean against the wall. “Verlander is their ace, right?”

“Yeah,” Merlin nodded. “I’m not sure if the Sox will have a chance against him, even if he’s up against Lester.”

“It ought to be a good game then,” Arthur said, his voice making it sound more like a question than a statement.

“You’re lucky to have gotten these,” Merlin said, holding the tickets as if they were a fragile piece of hand-blown glass.

“That’s what I thought,” Arthur said, unfolding his arms and taking a step closer to Merlin.

“We’re still in the wild card race. These games have been sold out since April,” Merlin said. He pressed the tickets into Arthur’s hand and laughingly added, “If you wanted to scalp them, you could probably get big bucks for the pair of them.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not looking to scalp them. A friend of my father’s gave them to me,” he said, tapping the tickets with his index finger, the nail perfectly trimmed and shiny with a clear coat of polish. “I wasn’t going to accept them, but I remembered you were a fan from my lesson in courier etiquette, and I thought if you weren’t doing anything on Friday, you might like to go with me.”

Merlin’s heart thundered in his chest when he observed the way Arthur looked at him through lowered lashes, his gleaming eyes as blue as the windows on the Hancock Tower.

“Friday?” Merlin asked, the realization dawning on him that yes, Arthur had the hottest tickets in town and yes, he also had the hottest _everything_ , and yes, he’d be crazy to decline the invitation.

“It’s the least I can do, considering you’re running yourself ragged with deliveries between my sister’s attorneys and me,” Arthur said. “You can consider it a business meeting, if you’d like.”

Merlin couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “I’m sure I can find an excuse to go with you. No need to make it a business obligation.”

“Good, then I can complain to you about my annoying sister, instead,” Arthur smiled. “You can use the information in case you ever decide to quit this courier gig to become a family therapist.”

“Not a bad idea, when you consider how many disgruntled siblings I see on any given day,” Merlin said.

“Hold that thought,” Arthur said. “As you might guess, I have enough issues of my own without having to hear about others.”

“On the other hand, it might make you feel better about your own issues,” Merlin quipped. “Contemplating the hardships of others has its merits.”

“Ah, the grass is always greener, is it?” Arthur asked leaning closer.

“So they say,” Merlin said. He could feel Arthur’s breath against his cheek, but he didn’t back away. He could smell the faint scent of his toothpaste and he had to shake himself to keep from smiling at the knowledge that Arthur had brushed his teeth to prepare for Merlin’s arrival. Merlin needed to say something. He knew that if he stayed a moment longer, he’d abandon the rest of his manifest. He’d probably lose his job. Then he’d have to move back home with his mother. And Iseldir. Then, he’d certainly never get to find out what lay beyond the entryway to Arthur’s realm, although he would be treated to a dead mouse on occasion. “Should I meet you here, or at Fenway?”

Arthur straightened up. “Why don’t you meet me here. We can catch a taxi or just ride the T over to the park,” Arthur said.

“Okay,” Merlin smiled. He moved backwards until he felt the doorknob brush against his back. “I’ll see you on Friday, then.”

“If not, sooner,” Arthur said, sliding his hand along the doorjamb as Merlin made his exit.

=^.^= )

Merlin grinned from ear to ear as he rode the elevator to the lobby. He couldn’t believe his luck. He just had the invitation to perhaps one of the most important games of the year handed to him. And he’d be going to the game with Arthur.

Gorgeous, funny, sexy, baggage-laden Arthur.

Merlin was pretty sure Arthur wasn’t a rabid baseball fan, so it meant even more to him that Arthur recognized the significance of this game. And he had thought of Merlin because of his shirt! Letting laundry pile up had its advantages, after all.

Merlin strode across the lobby of The Devonshire and hopped onto his bike.

The realization that he and Arthur were quite possibly going on a date, a real date, washed over him like dawn breaking over Marblehead. 

Merlin sped across two lanes of traffic stopped at the red light on Water Street.

He was going on a date with Arthur. “Arthur Pendragon,” he let the name roll off his tongue.

Turning onto Washington Street, Merlin had to wait for the usual annoyingly slow pedestrians to cross. If he stood up on his pedals, he could see nearly all the way to Chinatown, where his next delivery was already overdue.

Arthur, with his blue eyes.

When the traffic cleared, Merlin took off like a line drive, pedaling down the street, keeping ahead of the cars that fell into a procession behind him.

Arthur, with his dead father and his crazy sister. Merlin smirked.

Faster and faster he pedaled, well ahead of the congested city traffic, the road a long ribbon of blacktop stretching before him to Kneeland Street, the fish market, and beyond.

He was going on a date with Arthur. Arthur, with his allergies to tree mold.

The breeze rippled past him, washing away everything about Merlin that was stationary, that had been plastered into one place, his hair, his clothing, the sweat from his skin.

Arthur, with his glorious view of the city from his apartment.

Merlin took his hands off the handlebars and tilted his head back while his legs pumped out a rhythm that made the tires sing against the polluted street.

Arthur, with his infuriatingly low-slung Harvard sweatpants.

Merlin closed his eyes and reached into his belly for a voice that expressed himself best, and yelled, “I’m king of the world!”

=^.^= )


	3. Chapter 3

“How about this one?” Gwaine asked, holding the dark blue shirt against Merlin’s chest.

Of course, Gwaine decided to act like a total girl once he found out that Arthur had asked Merlin to the game. He insisted that they knock off work early on Friday, so Merlin could prepare for the big event… with Gwaine’s help.

“No, no, no!” Merlin pushed the shirt away. He wrinkled his nose as if the large red number 24 was dripping with cat piss.

“Why not? You look nice in blue,” Gwaine said.

“Gwaine! Arthur will think I’m a total ass if I go to the game wearing that shirt. No self-respecting Sox fan would wear a Manny shirt. Not after what happened in ’08,” Merlin said, continuing to rummage through his bureau.

“I’m sure Arthur has no idea that Manny was traded to the Yankees,” Gwaine said.

“Don’t be stupid,” Merlin said, pulling a red shirt out of a drawer. “He was traded to the Dodgers… right before he was suspended for using steroids.”

“Ahhh… that must be what they meant by _Manny being Manny,_ ” Gwaine said, shaking his head.

“I need something safe, like this one,” Merlin said holding a red shirt with the number 19 emblazoned on the back.

“Beckett?” Gwaine asked.

“Reliable, honest, and trustworthy,” Merlin said.

Gwaine got busy ironing a pair of cargo shorts while Merlin jumped into the shower. 

Merlin wasn’t normally particularly attentive to the state of his clothing, so he appreciated Gwaine’s offer to help him prepare for his date. Merlin worked the shampoo through his hair, regretting that he hadn’t taken the time to get a haircut during the week. He massaged a dollop of conditioner between his palms, hoping that it would help him tame the unruly mess.

In hindsight, it was probably too late to make a good impression on Arthur. The damage was already done. Showing up at the wrong address, behaving like a bumbling fool, intruding on clients’ personal matters… although none of these transgressions seemed to have dampened Arthur’s interest. Merlin considered himself lucky.

Merlin dried himself and wrapped the towel around his waist. He opened the bathroom door to let the steam escape and to allow some of the air-conditioning to flow into the bathroom.

“How are you doing out there?” he called to Gwaine.

Gwaine appeared in the doorway, holding a pair of neatly ironed shorts.

“Here you go, Your Highness,” Gwaine said with a flourish.

“Thanks,” Merlin said as he squirted a handful of shaving cream from the can.

“No, no, no!” Gwaine said. “You’re not going to shave!”

“Of course I am,” Merlin said, skimming his foamy hands over his cheeks and chin.

Gwaine made a sound like an animal hit by a car.

Merlin grimaced at him from beneath his mask of white. “Just because you like a scruffy face doesn’t mean every guy does,” Merlin said.

“Oh, so you think Arthur likes a smooth face?” Gwaine asked, before turning to put the iron away.

“I’ll admit I’ve thought about it, but it doesn’t really matter since my beard grows so fast. It’ll be back by tomorrow if I think he likes it,” Merlin said as he scraped the razor over his chin.

Gwaine whimpered a bit while stroking his own scruffy beard.

After Merlin finished shaving, he dressed himself to Gwaine’s specifications and endured a few more minutes of Gwaine primping his hair, which he promptly ruined by putting on a navy blue Red Sox cap. He checked his watch and insisted that Gwaine not accompany him to The Devonshire, a trip that would take all of ten minutes if he walked slowly. Instead, he charged Gwaine with tidying up his apartment before returning to his own a few blocks away.

“I’ll have this place looking immaculate… just in case you have an overnight guest,” Gwaine said with a wink.

Merlin smirked and stuffed his wallet in his pocket.

“It’s good to know that you have every confidence in me,” Merlin said.

“You have condoms?” Gwaine asked.

Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Ah, yes, the bike messenger’s rule number… number… I forget which one,” Gwaine said, snapping his fingers.

“Aren’t you thinking of _be prepared?”_ Merlin asked.

“No, that’s not it,” Gwaine said. “I don’t think _be prepared_ is a bike messenger’s rule.”

“I thought that condoms went under the category of _safety first, fun second_.” Merlin said.

“Maybe,” Gwaine said.

“Wish me luck, in any case,” Merlin replied, heading for the door.

“Wait, aren’t you going to bring your glove? You never know when a foul may come your way,” Gwaine said.

“Gwaine, I’m not eight years old, for God’s sake," Merlin said, shoving him out of his way.

“All right, get going then,” Gwaine said as Merlin stepped into the hall. “Go Sox! And you’d better text me when you get home.”

=^.^= )

Merlin was a bit surprised to see Arthur waiting for him in the lobby of The Devonshire.

As he walked to The Devonshire, Merlin had imagined himself riding to the fortieth floor of the building to greet Arthur for the first time as a date, and not as one of the many delivery people that Arthur undoubtedly had to deal with in his everyday life. He hoped Arthur might show him the rest of his apartment, maybe even give him a hug. That might have solidified Arthur’s intentions more firmly than sharing the free Sox tickets he had scored.

But it was not to be. Merlin shrugged off the fantasy as quickly as he could, and reset his expectations for the night ahead.

“You look like you’re ready to take the field,” Arthur said gesturing to Merlin’s Beckett shirt and the blue ball cap.

“I could say the same for you,” Merlin said brightly, taking in Arthur’s white home jersey with the retired team captain Varitek’s number 33 on the back. “I didn’t think you were a big enough fan to own a shirt.”

“Really? I thought it was some kind of state law that every Massachusetts resident must own at least one.” Arthur smiled and nodded to the doorman, “Taxi, please,” he said.

Merlin and Arthur let the doorman exit first to flag down a taxi.

“I figured we’d take a taxi so we’ll have plenty of time to find our seats and take a look around the ballpark. I hope you don’t mind,” Arthur said, his hand skating across the small of Merlin’s back as they stepped outside.

“No, not at all,” Merlin said, trying to control the feeling of butterflies in his stomach because of the touch of Arthur’s hand. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a game. It’ll be fun to see what’s going on around the park.”

The doorman signaled for a taxi and soon Merlin found himself in the backseat of the car with Arthur riding down the same city streets that Merlin pedaled every day. When the taxi turned onto Storrow Drive, Arthur let out a sneeze.

“Excuse me,” he said, digging into his pocket for a handkerchief.

“Bless you,” Merlin said. “Are you sure you’re not allergic to me?”

Arthur laughed and wiped his nose. “No, I’m quite sure I’m not. It’s this tree pollen or something,” Arthur said, waving his hand at the window where the trees lined the Esplanade. “I don’t know why. It starts acting up with me at the end of every summer.”

Merlin played with the strap to his seatbelt. “Are you allergic to other things, as well?” he asked.

“No, not that I know of,” Arthur said, crumpling his handkerchief back into his pocket. “Like what?”

“Well, like cats, for example,” Merlin said, looking out the window. “Most people aren’t allergic to only one thing. There’s usually lots of things they are allergic to—certain animals, for example.”

“I think I’d know if I was allergic to cats,” Arthur said, eyeing Merlin suspiciously for a moment. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re covered in cat fur or something?”

“No, I but I visited the MSPCA recently and I suppose I could have some cat juju lingering around me,” Merlin said, wiggling his fingers in the air.

After a few moments passed, Arthur said, “You’re a bit strange, Merlin.”

Merlin only laughed.

When the taxi dropped them off on the corner of Lansdowne Street, Arthur was quick to draw a bill from his wallet. Merlin made a mental note to take care of the next fare.

As the taxi drove off, Merlin felt free to experience the magical atmosphere that was Fenway. The vibe on the street was almost as dizzying as the thought of spending time with Arthur at his side. He and Arthur walked down the crowded street that bordered the historic park.

Lansdowne Street was closed to vehicular traffic, but open to pedestrians and vendors. The smell of grilled sausages and popcorn filled the air. A long line of hopeful fans waited at the box office window, trying their luck at getting tickets for the game. A certain number of game-day tickets were always held back so that fans could get a standing-room only spot if they showed up early enough at the park. Most fans walked away disappointed. Merlin was glad he didn’t need to worry about getting into the game today.

Arthur was a few steps ahead when Merlin paused to watch a group of amateur musicians beat out a rhythm on a dozen overturned plastic buckets. It was only for a moment, and soon Merlin heard Arthur calling his name. He looked up to see him gesturing wildly from the short section of chain link fence that separated left field from the street.

“Merlin, come look,” Arthur said.

Merlin jogged over to where Arthur stood and peered through the fence. The Red Sox had just finished their warm-up and were crossing the field on their way to the clubhouse. Merlin excitedly pressed his face against the fence, his hands laced through the warm metal of the chain link.

“Big Papi!” a young boy yelled from behind Merlin. Soon a throng of fans had gathered at the fence to watch their heroes walk by. As the crowd grew thicker, Merlin and Arthur were nudged closer together by the encroaching fans. Merlin didn’t mind a bit that the strangers invaded so much of his personal space. Instead, he grinned like a little kid as he caught sight of all his favorite players. It didn’t hurt a bit that he was squashed next to Arthur. He took time to enjoy the solid feel of Arthur pressed against him. He could smell the scent of Arthur’s shampoo as their heads inclined together to get a final glimpse of the players before they disappeared from the field.

When the crowd dispersed, they made their way to the park’s entrance. Arthur dug the tickets out of his wallet and handed one to Merlin. After getting a quick pat-down by security, they passed through the turnstiles and stepped onto the concourse.

“You must be starving,” Arthur said. “Do you want to grab a bite now, or wait until the game starts?”

Merlin took a quick look down the concourse toward the concessions that featured everything from overpriced beer to spinach and artichoke dip.

“No, I can wait. Besides, Gwaine made me eat a Powerbar before I left my apartment,” Merlin said.

“I see,” Arthur said, as they began to walk with the flow of other fans who wandered around the passageway that encircled the field. “And who is this _Gwaine_ … your boyfriend?”

“Oh, no,” Merlin said, trying to keep the blush from coloring his cheeks. “He’s a friend… and a co-worker. Not a boyfriend at all.”

“Oh, so he’s a messenger as well?” Arthur asked.

“Yes, one of the finest. And your place is on his regular route,” Merlin said.

“Is that so?” Arthur asked. “You’d think I’d have seen him by now.”

“He does a great job. If you still think I’m incompetent, maybe you’d like me to arrange for Gwaine to deliver your documents from now on?” Merlin asked with a grin, hoping that Arthur would soundly refuse the offer.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’ll take your word for it that he’s good,” he said, squeezing the back of Merlin’s neck. “But I think I’ll keep you on. Perhaps if you work on your skills handling my documents, you’ll be able to measure up to your friend’s caliber someday.”

“You should be so lucky,” Merlin said, giving Arthur’s shoulder a friendly shove.

Beneath the stadium, dozens of vendors displayed every bit of Red Sox merchandise available. There were T-shirts and Bobble-heads, keychains and lingerie, anything conceivable as long as it featured the team’s logo.

“Hey, check it out,” Merlin said, sliding his hand over a small cat collar, woven with the Red Sox’s trademark B. “My cat would love this.”

Merlin shook the collar so the tiny silver bell jingled and Arthur’s brow furrowed. “Hey, we should go find our seats,” Arthur said, drawing Merlin’s attention away from the merchandise. 

“Oh, sure, what section are they in?” Merlin asked while digging into his pocket for the ticket.

“Twelve,” said Arthur, who had retrieved his ticket from his pocket faster than Merlin.

As Merlin passed each entryway into the stadium, he gazed through the openings, like giant keyholes that allowed him to spy into the stands. It seemed almost surreal to see the park lit so brightly by thousands of fluorescent lights, despite the late afternoon sun. A hazy cloud hung over the field, as if each atom that once sat as dew on the grass was summoned upward by the combination of the summer sun and the high-tech lighting.

Merlin and Arthur walked to the entryway closest to their seats. Merlin couldn’t help being excited as he climbed the steps and entered the park. The light was blinding and there were too many people moving around for him to be able to concentrate on one thing.

“Over here,” Arthur said, tugging Merlin’s shirtsleeve.

Merlin followed Arthur as he located their seats, which looked directly over the first base line.

“Great seats,” Merlin said when they were settled comfortably.

“Yeah,” said Arthur. “My father’s friend, Geoffrey, gave them to me. To be honest, I think my father’s old friends feel sorry for me and they’re showing their sympathy by giving me things. Do you know what I mean?”

“I think so. I suppose it’s only natural that they want to reach out and do what they can to show that they care about their friend’s son,” Merlin said.

“And Sox tickets are always appreciated. Who in their right mind could turn this down?” Arthur asked as he gestured toward the field. The stands had started to fill up while they sat and talked.

“Did you get along with him well? Your father?” Merlin asked.

Arthur grew tight-lipped as he presumably thought of an appropriate answer.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” Merlin said.

“I suppose it’s not right to be rejoicing over great seats when my father is dead,” Arthur said.

“I didn’t mean—” Merlin began.

“My mother died when I was an infant, so my father has always been my only family,” Arthur said resolutely.

“What about Morgana?” Merlin asked.

“My half-sister, actually… proven by a paternity test when I was away in college,” Arthur said.

“Oh,” Merlin said. “I hadn’t realized.”

“It sounds like something you’d see on Jerry Springer, doesn’t it?” Arthur laughed.

“I’m sure that took some sorting out between you and your father,” Merlin said.

“It did,” Arthur nodded. “We didn’t always see eye to eye, despite the fact that he raised me. When he first took ill, a couple years ago, I moved back here from New York. I stayed in his apartment when he was hospitalized, but I never thought that he wouldn’t be returning.”

“So it’s his apartment you’re living in at The Devonshire?” Merlin asked.

“I’ve been there for two years, come September,” Arthur said.

“Oh, so he was hospitalized since then?” Merlin asked.

“I had been between jobs in New York when I came to visit him for week. While I was here, he suffered a stroke,” Arthur said, averting his eyes to a stray thread at the hem of his shorts.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Merlin said.

“At first the doctors weren’t certain to what degree he would recover,” Arthur said. “But as time went on, the outlook became increasingly grim.”

A pair of middle-aged women stopped at the row of seats Merlin and Arthur were sitting in. They indicated that this was their row, as well. The men stood to make room for the women to squeeze past them to find their seats at the end of the row.

“So you never went back to New York?” Merlin asked, when they were seated again, wondering gently what role an absent boyfriend might play in his future.

“No, I stayed here to be close to my father, in case his health took a turn for the better—or worse. Besides, I had no concrete job to go back to, so I packed my things up and moved them into my father’s apartment,” Arthur said.

“Oh, what kind of work did you do in New York?” Merlin asked, trying to find his way to a more comfortable emotional ground.

“Video engineering,” Arthur said brightly.

Merlin’s eyes went to the broadcast booth where Jerry and Don called the game. “I’m not sure what that is,” Merlin said. “Did you work for a TV station?”

“No, nothing quite so lucrative,” Arthur said. “I worked for myself. People would hire me to set up the recording of live events. Mostly boring stuff like City Council meetings and press conferences. Sometimes, I’d get an offer to do a wedding, if I was lucky.”

“That sounds like fun,” Merlin said. “My mother is getting married this winter. Maybe I can put in a good word for you if you need the work.”

Arthur laughed at that. “I’m afraid I haven’t been able to think about getting my business off the ground in Boston. Maybe that will be just the push I need to get my ass in gear.”

“Have you been doing anything for work?” Merlin asked. “I mean, besides studying to be a bicycle messenger, picking my brain for all the best tricks of the trade.”

“I’m tempted to say that I’ve been running my father’s company, although that would be a gross overstatement, since it pretty much runs itself,” Arthur said.

“Now, see, I knew you had to be doing something all day besides fighting with Morgana,” Merlin said. “What kind of business did he do? He must have been successful to live in that beautiful high-rise.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Arthur said.

“Oh, come on,” Merlin said.

A puff of breath escaped from Arthur’s lips. “He manufactured rabies poles. Those catch-pole things that you see Animal Control officers using on animals that need to be restrained.”

Merlin nearly choked with laughter. “That’s actually pretty funny.”

“I know,” Arthur said. “He bought the company when he was a young man. They make the poles and ship them from a factory in California. It’s the only place in the world that makes them, and it’s the only thing they make.”

“Nice. I’m surprised your father didn’t live out there where it’s sunny,” Merlin said.

“Oh, no,” Arthur said. “He was born in Boston and he loved it here. Besides, the company pretty much ran itself. He just had to sit back and collect a paycheck. Not bad for a couple hours of work per week.”

“And now the company’s ownership is at stake?” Merlin asked.

“Just one of the things Morgana is trying to claim for her own from my father’s estate, along with the apartment,” Arthur said.

“If you lose the apartment, do you think you’ll want to move back to New York?” Merlin asked. “Or maybe move to California to keep an eye on things if you get to keep the company?” 

“I love Boston. I’d love to stay here, but I really have no idea if my differences with Morgana will ever be resolved. I worry about losing the things that are most important to me—the things she’s threatening to take away,” Arthur said, turning to Merlin. “I’d like to try to forget about it tonight.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said. “It must be very difficult. I’ve seen how many documents you two have shuttling back and forth. It can’t be easy.”

Merlin wondered if it was too much for him to expect Arthur to speak about his legal woes. Perhaps when Arthur was ready to share, Merlin would listen, but until then, the affairs of the elder Pendragon’s estate were something that Merlin would wait for Arthur to broach with him. Although Arthur was shaping up to be a perfect date for his mother’s wedding, Merlin was ever-cautious about playing his cards right. He didn’t want to give Arthur the impression that he was some kind of gay gold-digger.

“I suppose we Pendragons are keeping Kilgharrah Kourier in business these days, and I suspect we will be for a long while,” Arthur said.

“I won’t complain about the job security,” Merlin grinned, pleased that Arthur allowed him an opening to change the subject.

Merlin was so busy thinking about something interesting to say that he couldn’t have anticipated what happened next.

Arthur let his fingertips trail across the back of Merlin’s hand. “To think,” Arthur said, leaning close to Merlin so he could whisper in his ear, “that I was simply going to let you in my door, hand you some documents, and send you on your way.”

Merlin felt the tips of his ears burn with Arthur’s flirtatious tone. He was relieved that he didn’t have to think of what to say next because the announcer’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers, welcoming the fans to the park. After several rounds of applause for the players, the singing of the national anthem and the equally revered “Play Ball,” the fans became quiet enough for Merlin to hear the beating of his heart again.

“Should we grab a bite now, before things get too exciting,” Merlin asked.

“I suppose that’s a good idea,” Arthur said, patting his stomach as if he was starving.

“I’ve got it,” Merlin said placing his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “You can stay here and I’ll go make a food run. What would you like?”

After memorizing Arthur’s request for a sausage sub with grilled onions, but no peppers, a single ribbon of mustard across the top, and a Sam Adams draft, Merlin decided to make things easy by just ordering the same thing when he got to the concession stand. Sure, he was mainly a vegetarian, but this was Fenway, and a sausage sub was mandatory.

Merlin smiled the whole time he was in line, thinking about the soft tickle of Arthur’s breath in his ear. He also took it as a positive sign that Arthur seemed somewhat willing to talk about his father’s death and the legal battle for which there seemed to be no end in sight. Still, Merlin wanted to keep the conversation light and not overburden Arthur or himself with the concerns of the day. Besides, Arthur was bloody gorgeous under the ballpark lights and Merlin had little chance of paying attention to anything else. Merlin’s inability to focus on anything other than Arthur became even more obvious when he lost his footing and nearly tumbled down the flight of stairs as he returned to their seats. Fortunately, he caught himself at the last moment, only spilling a few drops of beer from the plastic cups. Arthur, who had witnessed the slip while looking forward to Merlin’s return, simply grinned and shook his head.

By the time Merlin reached Arthur with the food and drinks intact, Verlander had already struck out two and had a full count against Gonzalez.

“Are you always so graceful?” Arthur asked, softly chuckling.

Merlin handed Arthur his sausage and plunked down into his seat again, resting his feet on the crossbar of the seat in front of him.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Merlin said confidently. He tried to contain his smile while he checked the pitch count between bites of sausage.

More than once, Merlin caught Arthur watching him as the game progressed. Arthur seemed to eat his sausage as unobtrusively as possible, while Merlin took long licks at the dripping juices from the sweet onions and had to wipe his chin with a napkin from the stack he had brought from the concession stand.

Merlin finished shoving the last of his sub into his mouth amid the cheering and clapping as Big Papi drove in a two-run single in the bottom of the third. He and Arthur, like the other Fenway faithful, got to their feet to cheer for the home team.

When the cheering ended, they sat back down in their seats. Merlin was busy checking the scoreboard when he felt Arthur’s thumb brush corner of his mouth. He felt his heart beat faster as he wondered what Arthur meant by touching him in front of everyone in the stadium. It was as if Merlin was the focal point of the universe and everyone knew that Arthur Pendragon was touching his lips. Merlin could barely breathe.

“You’ve got some mustard there,” Arthur said.

“Oh,” Merlin said, startled. He reached for another napkin and made a few passes across him mouth with it before asking, “Better?”

Arthur looked at Merlin’s lips again and deemed them clean. Merlin’s face grew hot at the thought of Arthur inspecting him. He felt Arthur’s sparkling blue eyes scanning his face appreciatively. He even dared to make some eye contact at close range, and basked in the same warm feeling he felt for Arthur reflected back to him in Arthur’s eyes.

When their attention drifted from each other, they settled into the rhythm of the game, side by side, both cheering for the Sox when they got a hit. With Verlander on the mound, they didn’t come too easily.

As silly as it was, Merlin couldn’t help but be enthused that he was attending a game where the opponent’s team name evoked the sleek jungle cats that roamed the African continent far from Fenway. The feline beasts were never far from Merlin’s heart, even if they came in the form of Justin Verlander and his 4-seam fastball.

“Do you like cats?” Merlin asked off the cuff. He couldn’t remember whether he had actually asked Arthur if he liked them.

Arthur suddenly choked on the mouthful of beer he had been swallowing at the time, gasping and spewing the amber liquid from his nose. Merlin was surprised to see Arthur do something so undignified. While Arthur fumbled amongst their trash for a clean napkin to cover his mouth, Merlin wondered whether he should pound on Arthur’s back to help him breathe properly.

“Why?” Arthur fought to regain his breath. “Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering, from when we were talking about allergies on the ride here,” Merlin said, pleased that Arthur seemed to have recovered. “Have you ever seen that cat _Gwen_ from YouTube?”

Arthur’s coughing fit seemed to begin again, although he hadn’t taken another sip of beer.

“I may have seen her once or twice,” Arthur said.

“She’s gone absolutely viral,” Merlin said. “Especially since her book came out—‘I Am Gwen.’ That kind of says it all.”

“I guess so,” Arthur said, dabbing his face with a napkin.

“You know,” Merlin said, leaning close so no one could overhear. “Most people think bike messengers are total hipsters, but I’d watch that frigging cat jump into a box all day long if I could.”

Arthur exhaled shakily. “Yeah… a cat jumping into a box is pretty entertaining.”

Merlin decided not to pursue the cat conversation any further with Arthur since it seemed to bring out strange behavior. Instead, he sat back to enjoy the game.

Lester had given up two walks in the bottom of the sixth when Fielder stood at the plate. The first pitch was a hard fastball, inside.

Ball 1. 

The second pitch, a curveball, down and away.

Ball 2.

The third pitch was a two-seam fastball middle away, which Fielder tattooed into the stands.

Arthur never saw the ball coming.

Merlin had seen Arthur’s attention drift to the beautiful sunset that streaked the sky with color above third base while Fielder was at bat. Although he was only one hundred feet from home plate, Arthur had no way of knowing the ball heading in his direction.

Time seemed to slow as Merlin shifted in his seat. His feet left the crossbar where they were resting even before the ball left the interior of the field. Merlin planted his left foot on the concrete floor in front of him as the ball cleared the first rows of fans. With both hands, he grabbed Arthur by his shirt, the fabric bunching beneath his fingers.

Merlin’s eyes never left the ball.

The umpire cried, “Foul!”

Later, Merlin would swear that he could make out each stitch of the ball as it rocketed toward Arthur's head.

Merlin pulled.

A look of confusion passed over Arthur’s face when he was hauled forward just before the ball hit the back of his seat. The sharp snap of leather splintering the wooden seatback rang through the park. Arthur freed himself from Merlin’s grip and the park exploded with cheers.

Back at home plate, Fielder shook his head, as if apologizing.

Someone handed Merlin the ball, which had spun off the seatback and landed in the hands of a fan behind him. By then, Arthur had finally recognized what had nearly happened to him.

“You saved his life,” a fan shouted, slapping Merlin on the back.

Arthur looked like a fish out of water, his eyes open wide as he gasped for breath.

“Good job,” another fan said, adding to Merlin’s feeling of pride.

“Thanks, Merlin,” Arthur finally uttered when he got his bearings.

“They’ll need to repair this in the morning,” Merlin said, letting his fingers tentatively examine the splintered seatback.

“I’m lucky that wasn’t my head,” Arthur said, stating the obvious.

“This belongs to you,” Merlin said, tossing the ball up and down in one hand. “Keep it for a souvenir.”

“Thanks… I think,” Arthur said. “Shouldn’t you bring a glove next time?”

“I thought about bringing mine, but it seemed silly at the time. Only little kids brought gloves to the game,” Merlin said, lowering his gaze.

“No one would mind. You’re a big kid, anyway, so you could get away with it,” Arthur said as he examined the ball, rotating it with his fingers, in a motion that seemed strangely familiar to Merlin.

“Alright, maybe I will,” Merlin said, pleased that Arthur was talking about there being a _next time_ , even though he almost lost his life to a foul ball.

“That would be adorable,” Arthur said.

“What’s that?” Merlin asked, distracted by the thought of Arthur’s hands.

“You,” Arthur said.

“Me?” Merlin answered.

“You, bringing your glove to the park to try to snag a foul ball. That would be adorable. As if you’re not adorable enough already,” Arthur said, the blush in his cheeks barely noticeable. “Thanks for saving my life.”

Merlin couldn’t have been more pleased with how their date was going. He tried not to read too much into it. It was early in their friendship and after only one meeting that wasn’t business related, so he didn’t want to get his hopes up. He sank back into his seat and tried to enjoy the game as much as he enjoyed sitting beside Arthur.

Sometime in the next inning, a park official stopped by to inspect the back of Arthur’s chair. When the official determined that Arthur hadn’t suffered any real trauma, other than acquiring a new appreciation for paying attention when a batter was at the dish, he offered Arthur some vouchers for free food and drink at the concessions. Merlin took this opportunity to load both of them up with boxes of Cracker Jack and a large bag of roasted peanuts.

After another round of beer, along with a pair of hot pretzels, Arthur seemed to relax as thoroughly as possible for someone who was nearly killed by a foul ball. The score was 2-2 when Jackson made the last out in the top of the eighth. Merlin thought that was as good a time as any to get up out of his seat and make a trip to the men’s room before they had to trek home, but Arthur had other ideas.

“You can’t leave now,” Arthur insisted as the music began to play.

Merlin didn’t quite understand. “It’s just a song,” he laughed. “It’s no big deal.”

Arthur looked affronted. “Listen, Merlin, I may have lived in New York for a few years,” Arthur said, making sure to whisper the name of his city in order to avoid inciting a riot among the Boston fans, “but I grew up watching the Sox. There’s no way you can leave me during _Sweet Caroline_.”

Merlin thought Arthur was being silly. This was the perfect time to leave his seat. There would be no line for the men’s room, not with the familiar strains of Neil Diamond’s voice over the loudspeakers.

“Where it began… I can’t begin to know when… but then I know it’s growing strong,” Arthur sang along with the crowd.

Merlin could only laugh at Arthur when he took his hand and swung their arms in the air.

“Was it the spring… and spring became the summer… who'd believe you'd come along,” Arthur sang with a tipsy grin.

“Haaaaaaands,” the noise in the stadium was deafening.

“Touching hands…”

“Reaching out… “

“Touching me… touching you,” Arthur—and the 37,493 other fans in the park—sang.

Merlin could no longer resist Arthur’s antics, so he joined in, “Sweet Caroline, bah, bah, bah… Good times never seemed so good. So good! So GOOD! SO GOOD!”

“I've been inclined, bah, bah, bah… to believe it never would….”

Merlin had been keenly aware of the Kiss-Cam that lingered on couples, their faces projected onto the giant screens that flanked the Green Monster. As Sweet Caroline played, the camera scanned around the park, seeking out potential subjects who would rouse the crowd by kissing onscreen. Some couples smiled and kissed. Some couples laughed and avoided kissing. Shouts went up from the crowd whenever the camera loomed near. Before long, the camera headed Merlin’s way, focusing on Arthur as he sang. After a slight adjustment to the focus, Merlin saw himself in the frame with Arthur, splashed over the Jumbotron. Arthur was still fully engaged in singing, but when he finally noticed the shouts of the crowd around him and Merlin, he looked up to see his face on camera and got a clue as to what was happening.

Merlin tried to smile, biting his lip the whole while. He would hate to feel as if Arthur had been forced to kiss him. When he was all but certain that Arthur was simply going to ignore the Kiss-Cam, instead he slung an arm around Merlin’s neck and pulled his head in close. Merlin tried to squirm away, but before he could, Arthur playfully rubbed his knuckles onto Merlin’s head. The fans around them burst into laughter and the camera moved on to find some other potential kissers.

Merlin was a bit relieved. Although Boston was a gay-friendly city, he didn’t want to push his luck with Arthur. Things were going well between them and the night wasn’t quite over yet.

At the top of the ninth inning, the Sox were up 3-2 and Bard was well on his way to striking out Boesch for the win when he got a base hit. With the tying run on first, everyone in the park stood and held their breath while Cabrera came to the plate.

“Every game I’ve ever been to ends this way,” Merlin said, covering his eyes.

“We’ll still have last ups,” Arthur said hopefully, letting his hand rest between Merlin’s shoulder blades.

It was all Merlin could do to concentrate on the pitcher, hoping that the game wasn’t sent into extra innings. He wanted Arthur, alone, and all to himself, right now. He had saved Arthur’s life. He was sure that he could think of a way for Arthur to repay him if he put his mind to it, but he needed the game to end now.

“I can’t watch,” Merlin said as the pitch crossed the plate.

When he next opened his eyes, the crowd erupted into cheers because Cabrera had grounded into a 6-4-3 double play.

“Woohoo!” Merlin yelled along with the crowd, throwing his hands in the air.

“Nothing like a close game to make it all worthwhile,” Arthur said as he wildly applauded.

The screaming fans began to shift to leave the stadium. Although there was a little unintentional pushing and shoving, the crowd fell into line one behind the other as they funneled toward the exits. There was no escape from the sea of humanity as people inched through the passageways beneath the stands. Merlin was reassured by the grip of Arthur’s hand on his shoulder that they would soon be outside again.

When the fans filtered onto Lansdowne Street, they moved a little faster, but everyone was headed in the same direction, hooting and hollering about the win.

“We’ll never get a taxi in this mess,” Arthur said.

“We could just take the T,” Merlin said. Even Arthur wouldn’t be pretentious enough to avoid the city’s subway system all the time. “Come on, I’ll buy.”

“Sounds good,” Arthur said, taking Merlin’s hand.

Merlin glanced down at his hand as it fitted into Arthur’s. He felt a flutter of joy in his chest. Arthur seemed to have no qualms about showing affection, and Merlin hoped it was a sign of where the night would lead.

The pair hurried with the flow of fans down Brookline Avenue toward the Kenmore T stop where the line of people waiting to board the train already spilled out onto Commonwealth Avenue.

“May as well get in line,” Arthur said, letting go of Merlin’s hand so he could walk through the narrow entrance in front of him.

Merlin fumbled for his wallet and got out his Charlie Card in anticipation of the line moving forward. He didn’t mind the crowded conditions or the feel of Arthur’s chest pressed against his back, Arthur’s hands wandering with affection to his shoulders, his waist, his hips.

At the turnstile, Merlin tapped the card to the sensor. When he got the green light, he handed the card to Arthur so he could do the same. They then followed the flow of the crowd onto the platform where they awaited the next train.

They had to be careful not to get too close to the edge of the platform as more fans pushed through the turnstiles and joined the wait for a ride home. Before too long, the rumble of the train shook the ground as it rolled into the station.

The doors slid open and people clambered aboard until they were stuffed into the car like sardines. Since there were no empty seats, Merlin reached up with both hands to grab the bar that ran the length of the train car so he could steady himself for the ride. Arthur was standing right in front of him with no place to hang onto. When the train jolted out of the station, Arthur jerked forward and stopped himself from falling by grabbing Merlin by the waist. Merlin gasped. The air was heavy with the scent of the city, the odor of newsprint and bio-fuel. Arthur’s fingers didn’t grip enough to hurt, but just enough for Merlin to know that they were there digging into the waistband of his cargo shorts.

“Well, hello,” Merlin said seductively, so only Arthur could hear him, his words mostly drowned out by the rush of the train along the tracks.

“Hello there,” Arthur murmured. “Do you come here often?”

Merlin felt himself blush every shade of red, and he didn’t care whether Arthur noticed or not.

“Hynes,” the robotic voice announced over the loudspeaker as the train came to a halt at the station.

No one moved when the doors opened.

Arthur let go of Merlin for a moment so he could adjust his footing. Merlin stretched his long fingers and re-gripped the bar. Fortunately, he was tall enough that the reach didn’t bother him.

The doors closed and the sway of the train car flung Arthur into Merlin again. Arthur’s arms slipped around Merlin’s waist to steady himself as the train’s wheels clattered along the tracks, through tunnels, and over bridges. Copley, Arlington, Park Plaza, the stops went by without many passengers leaving the train. If anything, they were packed more tightly than they were when they boarded the train at Kenmore.

“Where do you get off, Merlin?” Arthur whispered the words into Merlin’s ear, his tone leaving nothing to innuendo when they approached the Government Center stop.

Merlin swallowed hard. He felt as if a bolt of lightning had shot straight from his ear to his cock. His mind was racing with what might happen that night. Maybe Arthur would invite him to his place, or maybe they’d find themselves back at Merlin’s. He hoped to God that Gwaine cleaned his apartment up a bit.

“I usually ride the Red Line to Downtown Crossing,” Merlin said, noncommittal.

Arthur nodded. “Then you’ll need to get off at Government Center with me, because you just missed your connection for the Red Line.”

“Like Charlie on the MTA,” Merlin said, lowering his lashes. “I can ride the T all day without ever getting off… but what fun would that be?”

When the train pulled into Government Center, it seemed like everyone onboard breathed a sigh of relief that they would be exiting.

The whoosh of pneumatics signaled the door’s opening and people began to pile out of the train. Suddenly Merlin had more breathing room. Before he knew it, he and Arthur were tumbling out the train door and heading for the escalator. Merlin was about to step onto the escalator to the street level at Scollay Square, but Arthur had other ideas.

“Come on,” Arthur said, tugging Merlin’s hand. “Let’s go for a ride.”

Merlin was thrilled to follow as Arthur led them downstairs to the Blue Line. Nearly all the people who had been on the Green Line train from Kenmore were assembled there, waiting for the train to the parking lots in the northern suburbs where five dollars bought them a parking space for the night as opposed to the fifty dollars or more to park in Beantown.

Mercifully, the Blue Line train rolled into the station as Merlin and Arthur reached the bottom of the stairs and they were able to squeeze through the doors before they closed, despite the T official promising that another less-crowded train was on its way into the station.

Merlin found himself in the same position that he had adopted on the Green Line train from Kenmore, arms above his head, holding onto the bar so he wouldn’t lose his balance. When the train sped out of the station, it was so crowded that no one would have noticed or even cared that Arthur’s arms found their way around Merlin’s waist again, his fingers splayed across the small of his back, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh beneath his shirt.

“State Street,” the robotic voice chimed when the train braked to a halt.

“That’s your stop,” Merlin said knowingly. He had been to The Devonshire enough times to know which station Arthur would use, if he ever needed to ride the T. Merlin’s hips hitched involuntarily. “Do you want to keep riding?”

Arthur made no movement to exit the train. Instead, he shifted so that one of his legs slotted between Merlin’s. “You can get back to Downtown Crossing from here, too,” he said. “If you want—”

“I don’t know if I want to go home just yet. This is kind of cozy,” Merlin said as the doors closed and the train sped down the tracks again.

Aquarium… 

Maverick… 

Airport…

More riders exited the train at each stop. No passengers boarded, but Merlin and Arthur remained as they were, Arthur’s hands braced on Merlin’s hips, while Merlin held the overhead bar for balance.

Wood Island… 

Orient Heights… 

Rolling beneath the city, the train rumbled to the rhythm of their hips as they slipped against each other with every twist of the tracks. By the time they reached the northern extremities of the Blue Line, only the two of them remained in the car. Arthur hitched his chin over Merlin’s shoulder and Merlin shivered at the feel of his breath against his neck before the train took off again.

To Merlin’s dismay, a drunk from the racetrack got onboard when they pulled into Suffolk Downs. He was an old man with a cane, who emptied his pockets of losing race stubs, scattering them on the floor before making his sad journey home.

“Get a room,” he muttered, halfway to himself, while Merlin let go of his bar with one hand and made a show of massaging the baseball that Arthur had wedged into his back pocket.

At Beachmont Station, the drunk stumbled out the train door.

Alone again, they careened toward Revere Beach and on to Wonderland, where the train would change direction to head toward the city again.

Merlin felt Arthur’s hands shift to the small of his back, his thumbs sliding beneath the waist of his shorts. The squeal of metal on metal sounded from the rails. Merlin’s breath caught in his throat when Arthur’s fingers traced circles on the hairless skin of his torso. He watched Arthur’s eyes, half-closed while he swayed to the motion of the train. There was no mistaking the pressure of his hard cock digging into Merlin’s thigh.

“This is what I wanted to do since the first moment I saw you,” Arthur said.

Merlin gripped the bar more tightly. He felt Arthur’s lips brush his, and suddenly they were kissing.

Arthur’s lips were as soft as Merlin had imagined they would be. He moaned a little as his lips parted to the sweep of Arthur’s tongue, allowing him in. Arthur’s eyes drifted shut, the last thing Merlin saw before he closed his eyes.

Merlin couldn’t really say he was surprised by Arthur kissing him. They had been flirting with each other since long before the foul ball nearly took Arthur’s head off. He squeezed his eyes shut and hummed softly. He supposed if he thought about it, Arthur tasted of Italian sausage, Vidalia onions, and overpriced beer. He suspected that he tasted the same.

He barely noticed when the train pulled into Revere Beach station. The doors opened and with no passengers waiting to board at this time of night, they swiftly closed again.

Merlin could feel Arthur’s heart hammering where their chests met. He pulled back a little to breathe, their mouths separating while their noses still touched.

“Was that before or after I dropped my helmet on your floor?” Merlin asked.

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur whispered before he kissed a path along Merlin’s jaw. “I didn’t want the first time I kissed you to be in front of that stupid Kiss-Cam or any of those people at the park. I didn’t want them to ruin it for us.”

“Fat chance of that happening,” Merlin said before finding Arthur’s earlobe and drawing it into his mouth.

Beachmont… 

Orient Heights… 

Wood Island…

Merlin loved to kiss. When Arthur lowered his head to bite gently at Merlin’s throat, Merlin coaxed Arthur’s lips back to his after catching his breath. To hell with his bee-stung lips, he thought as he let Arthur suck his bottom lip between his. He hoped the burn would last all weekend.

Airport… 

Maverick… 

Aquarium…

“Arthur?” Merlin gasped between kisses. “Arthur, your stop is coming up.” Merlin hoped that by drawing Arthur’s attention to the upcoming State Street stop, he would be invited to join Arthur at The Devonshire.

“I know,” Arthur said, running his knuckles along Merlin’s cheek.

“If you’d like, we can change to the Orange Line. It’s only one more stop to mine,” Merlin said, letting go of the bar with one hand to wrap it behind Arthur’s neck. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to clean up, and it’s really small and less extravagant than yours, and I’ll have to hide all my ‘I Am Gwen’ stuff from you, so you don’t think I’m a complete lunatic—”

“I’ve got to get back to my apartment,” Arthur said, pulling away abruptly.

“State Street,” the robotic voice announced.

Merlin raised his eyes hopefully as the train slowed.

“I need to get back to my own apartment tonight,” Arthur said, nodding resolutely, as if the past fifteen minutes of kissing on the train had never happened.

The doors whooshed open and Arthur stepped backward, letting go of Merlin’s hands. Merlin reached for him like a drowning man reaching for a life preserver. Arthur felt for the doorframe and stepped off the train.

Merlin watched him, even after the doors shut. Arthur turned away and headed for the stairs that would take him to street level.

When the train began to move, Merlin sat down. He folded his arms across his chest, feeling the ache from having held his arms over his head for so long. He chanced a glimpse around the vacant subway car through the sudden tears in his eyes. Grateful that no one was there to see him, he decided he could walk the distance home from Government Center.

=^.^= )


	4. Chapter 4

“And that was all he said?” Gwaine dug at the plastic seal on a new box of Kleenexes, tearing the film off so a clean white tissue popped out from the top.

Merlin felt awful. He didn’t mean for Gwaine to give up his Saturday to watch him mope around his apartment, but being a good friend, Gwaine insisted that he bring coffee and bagels when he learned that Merlin had spent the night alone. The box of Kleenexes must have been an afterthought.

“He said he had to go back to his apartment,” Merlin said. “Things were going great, until I totally ruined it.”

Gwaine handed a tissue to Merlin so he could blow his nose again.

“You didn’t ruin it on your own. You should have texted me when you got in. I’d have marched over to The Devonshire and given him a piece of my mind,” Gwaine said.

“No, that would have made things even worse,” Merlin said. Merlin was sure that he looked a sorry sight to Gwaine. He slumped over the table and rested his head on his hands.

“There, there,” Gwaine said. He handed Merlin one of the two coffees from the recycled cardboard tray he had set on the table. The chocolate shavings sprinkled across the top had begun to sink into the whipped cream. “Drink up. A little caffeine and sugar will do wonders for your mood. It always helps me.”

“I just don’t understand,” Merlin said, accepting the cup and dragging it across the tabletop. “He didn’t even think to invite me to his place. He just ran off like I meant nothing to him.”

Gwaine pulled up a chair and sat next to Merlin. “Did he give off any sign that he was going to ditch you at the end of the game?”

“No, none at all. I told you, he was all over me on the train,” Merlin said, licking tentatively at the whipped cream that topped his coffee. “All.Over.Me. Christ, we were practically coming in our pants when the train pulled into State Street.”

“It doesn’t make any sense. What guy could walk away from a sure thing like that?” Gwaine asked.

“I wondered that myself, since I practically threw myself at him,” Merlin said, his lips quivering as he took another lick of whipped cream. “Right before he ran away from me.”

“Listen,” Gwaine said thoughtfully. “I’m not implying that you’re a slut, but this was only your first date with Arthur. Do you think maybe things were moving too fast for him? Could that be it?”

“I don’t think so. He didn’t even say he’d call me again. He just took off as fast as he could. I know I’ve only met him a few times, but you should have seen him when we kissed. There really was something there, something that should have kept him from jumping off at his train stop for no good reason at all,” Merlin said. He buried his head in his hands. “Oh, I am so stupid. No one will ever want me.”

“You’re not stupid,” Gwaine said. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Gwaine’s patronizing tone only fueled Merlin’s anger. “I am stupid! I’m surprised you don’t think so too, considering all the time you invested in making me look good for my date. How could I have been such a fool?”

“So, I ironed your cargo shorts and helped you pick out a shirt. It was no sweat off my back,” Gwaine said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I told him I loved cats! I’m sure that’s why he got off the train,” Merlin said. He tried to blow his nose again, using the same crumpled tissue that he held in his fist. It was no use. Gwaine handed him the whole box.

“Well, you do love cats,” Gwaine nodded. “We’re talking about _you_ Merlin, not some eight year-old girl with a penchant for Hello Kitty. It’s not necessarily the information I would share on a first date, but there’s nothing wrong with being honest.”

“It’s all I could think of while I walked home from the T station last night. I didn’t worry about running into a group of thugs, I worried about how much I talked about cats… Oh God, I even told him I was obsessed with Gwen,” Merlin said, suddenly horrified. “Arthur wasn’t afraid of moving too fast. He was afraid I’d take him home and expect him to lap milk from a bowl or use a box of sand to take a piss in. He thinks I’m a freak who sits around watching a cat jump into boxes on YouTube.”

“Well…” Gwaine said.

Merlin glared at Gwaine, daring him to say _If the shoe fits—_ , but the conversation was interrupted by the buzz of Merlin’s cellphone. Merlin glanced at the caller’s name and moaned, “Oh God, I can’t talk to her now.”

“Who is it?” Gwaine asked.

“My mother,” said Merlin, hitting the _ignore_ button. “I’ll call her back later and break the news to her that I can’t even find a date for her wedding—the most important day of her life. I’m sure I’m a big disappointment to her.”

“Now you’re exaggerating,” Gwaine said, arching an eyebrow. 

“Not by much,” Merlin said, slurping at his coffee.

“Well, you are exaggerating a little bit and that’s enough for me to see that you are on the road to forgetting your latest crush. Forget Arthur, and move on to the next Prince Charming. That’s my advice,” Gwaine said.

“You’re going to have to handle his deliveries,” Merlin said thoughtfully. “I’d die of embarrassment if I had to see him again.”

“I suppose so, if you think the _cat thing_ was so horrible,” Gwaine said. “Elyan or Percival can do it if I can’t. If it’s really what you want.”

Merlin shrugged. “I was really falling for him. Even though it was only one date. I thought things were going perfectly,” Merlin said, his voice cracking. “I saved his life when he nearly got hit by a foul ball, but it meant nothing to him. He could just jump off the train and go home without even thinking about me. Why else would someone do that, unless they simply didn’t care?”

“I don’t know,” said Gwaine. “It really pisses me off too, that he let you down,” Gwaine said. He collected the empty coffee cups and tossed them into the trash.

For the rest of the day, Gwaine tried to keep Merlin’s mind off what had happened with Arthur.

He and Merlin passed the afternoon watching DVDs and playing MLB 2K12 on X-Box. Although Gwaine tried hard to take Merlin’s mind off his datefail, Merlin was relieved when Gwaine decided with a yawn that his job of tending to Merlin was done. Merlin appreciated his company, but he really needed some time alone so he could process what had happened.

After he declined Gwaine’s invitation to go to the Fritz to down his sorrows in a nightcap, Merlin gathered up the half-empty cartons of Chinese takeout they had ordered hours earlier. He consolidated what he could, stored the leftovers in the refrigerator, and threw the remnants of the packaging into the trash. The apartment seemed so quiet with Gwaine gone. Merlin supposed it had always seemed that way, ever since Cenred had left, but tonight it seemed even emptier than before. It was as if the absence of people had compounded, now that there was no longer any hope that Arthur would become his new love interest. He wished for some company to fill the lonely space in the apartment and in his heart.

Merlin went to the bathroom and splashed some cold water onto his face. His stubble had regrown almost as quickly as he had shaved it. The day after his botched date had passed quickly, thanks to Gwaine’s intervention. Time does heal all wounds, he thought to himself as he brushed his teeth. Maybe things could get back to normal next week, if he could avoid seeing Arthur.

Tomorrow was a new day and he could spend it however he liked. Maybe he’d visit Gilli at the MSPCA. He could investigate whether Gilli had any ideas about how he could illicitly adopt a pet cat to keep him company. Merlin knew the SPCA frowned on such things, but maybe Gilli would be lenient with him. Or if not, maybe Gilli knew some tricks that would help him convince his landlord that he should permit Merlin to have a cat in the apartment. It wasn’t as if he wanted to raise pit bulls. What harm could one cat do?

A cat would be the perfect companion for Merlin since it looked like he was going to be single for a good long time. He didn’t even want to look for a date for his mother’s wedding. It was an unnecessary weight that hung over him and it stressed him out. A cat would help him relax, he had read it somewhere on the Internet.

Merlin stripped off his shorts and T-shirt, leaving his boxers on to guard his nether bits against the chill of the air-conditioning. Flipping open his laptop, he checked his emails, deleting the ones that Gwaine had sent last night when he was checking up on him. There were two emails from his mother, who he would call in the morning, although he dreaded speaking to her. He promised himself that he wouldn’t mention Arthur at all. 

Just when he had convinced himself that things were looking up, he noticed that Gwen’s owner had uploaded a new video to YouTube.

“Silly cat,” he said to the computer screen. “It’s all your fault that I lost my chance with Arthur.”

Merlin slid his laptop onto the futon and snuggled beneath his soft flannel sheet.

“It’s all right. I still love you,” Merlin said, apologizing to the image on his screen. Gwen scampered across the hardwood floor. He could almost make out the sounds of her tiny claws clicking above the sound of the violin that accompanied her antics. It was Chopin, Merlin believed. He recognized the sad melody from a class in music appreciation that he had taken in high school. 

Gwen’s owner must have been holding something in his hand to get Gwen’s attention. Her eyes followed the unseen object from the left to the right of the screen, swaying to the notes of the music. When the music paused, Gwen hunkered down with her front paws and prepared to pounce. As the violin swelled, Gwen leaped into the air with a look of surprise on her face. Instead of the object moving further away from her, triggering a pounce, the object rolled ever closer and stopped right in front of her.

It was a baseball.

Gwen sniffed the ball curiously, then looked away.

Merlin rolled his eyes. “I don’t blame you for ignoring it,” Merlin said. “I’m sick of baseball too.”

The violin softened and Gwen reached out with a white paw to tap the ball. The ball rolled across the hardwood floor until it was no longer visible in the frame. Gwen chased after it presumably, because she bounded off the screen just as quickly as the baseball rolled away, ending the video installment.

Merlin sighed and closed his laptop. At least he could fall asleep thinking of Gwen scampering after a ball. It was better than last night’s sad memory of Arthur stepping off the train to leave him alone again.

=^.^= )

Sunday found Merlin riding the subway to the Heath Street station. From there, he could walk down Huntington Avenue to the SPCA. He peered out from beneath his summer beanie while he rode the train, a pair of Gwaine’s forgotten sunglasses hiding the truth in his eyes from the other passengers.

It was a shitty disguise.

In hindsight, Merlin thought it was ridiculous for him to assume that Arthur would be riding a subway train. Still, better safe than sorry. Even though the possibility was remote, Merlin really didn’t want to risk seeing Arthur. Not when he had embarrassed himself with his proclamations of cat love.

Gilli waved to him when he arrived at the shelter, which was busier than usual, considering Merlin usually visited during the weekdays when he was making deliveries. The sound of dogs excitedly barking to get a new master’s attention drowned out the mewls of the cats. The strange combination of animal excrement and disinfectant hung in the air. Merlin suspected it wouldn’t take long for an employee to get used to it, if he was fortunate enough to land a dream job of helping animals every day.

From behind the counter, Gilli was speaking to a couple with a small child. From what Merlin could hear, they were adopting a cat. Gilli went about the business of reviewing the paperwork with them. Merlin had seen similar transactions happen dozens of times while he visited the animal shelter.

A pair of calico cats romped in the Plexiglas-encased play area today. Merlin watched while a teenage girl spoke gently to them as she tried to get the cats to play with a feathery toy.

“What’s up?” Gilli thumped Merlin on the shoulder.

“Just stopping by for a visit,” Merlin said. “You look busy today.”

“It gets that way on the weekends,” Gilli said. “It’s good for the animals.”

The family that Gilli had been working with wandered past them and entered the dog kennel. The sounds of barking increased tenfold when they opened the door. Merlin had no interest in dogs, so he didn’t even bother to look into the noisy kennel. When the door shut behind them, the barking quieted again. 

“Tell me this,” Merlin began when he had Gilli’s full attention. “If a person wanted to adopt a cat, and they rented an apartment, would you actually check to see if the landlord permitted them to have a pet?”

Gilli folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “I can’t divulge that information.”

“Why not?” Merlin asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

“That’s an SPCA secret,” Gilli said.

“But it’s just a simple question,” Merlin said, exasperated.

“Of course we check up on it!” Gilli laughed, punching Merlin lightly on the arm. “Did you think we would just take a person’s word for it?”

“No, I suppose you can’t,” Merlin said.

“You know these animals are here because they are unwanted,” Gilli said, his voice gentle. “The last thing in the world that we want is for them to go to a home, only to be returned to us, unwanted again, because someone lied or used some other nefarious means to adopt one when they knew they weren’t supposed to have a pet. It’s traumatic for the animal.”

“It must be,” Merlin said thoughtfully. “Do you think there’s any chance of getting my landlord to change his mind about allowing pets? I mean, that happens _sometimes,_ doesn’t it?”

“I hate to tell you this,” Gilli said, slinging an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, “but if your landlord did change the pet allowance of your apartment, I’m guessing your rent would go through the roof.”

Merlin sighed. “You must know my landlord. I’m sure that would be just the thing he’d do if he decided to allow pets.”

“Besides, don’t you have a cat already?” Gilli asked. “Why would you look for a new cat?”

“Aithusa,” Merlin said. “My mother got him for me when I finished elementary school. I had begged her for a pet. He’s older now and set in his ways. He loves to hunt and chase insects in the fields behind my mother’s house. Even if I could have a pet in my apartment, it would be unfair to expect him to adjust to living indoors.”

“I see,” Gilli said thoughtfully. “You could always move back home with your mother.”

Merlin laughed. “I don’t think so. She fusses enough over me now. I’d never have a moment to myself if I lived with her, if you know what I mean. Besides, she’s about to get married. I’d like her to enjoy her life with her new husband.” 

“Look, if you think you might want a cat somewhere down the line, why not look for a new apartment? Maybe find a roommate so you can afford a higher rent. You could find a place that might have fewer restrictions. It’s worth a try,” Gilli said.

“That’s a good idea,” Merlin said. He _had_ been thinking about finding a new place since Cenred left, but he couldn’t muster the energy to consider moving from the apartment they had shared. Maybe Gilli’s idea was just the shove Merlin needed to get out of his post-relationship funk.

“I have a feeling that your catless days are about to end, and soon. You’re more motivated than most people. Tell you what,” Gilli said, “let me get you an application to adopt a cat. You can fill it out and leave the address part blank. When you find a place that will allow a cat, all you’d need to do is fill in your new address.”

“I can do that?” Merlin asked.

“People do it all the time,” Gilli said. “Come on, the next _Gwen_ is waiting to go home with you.”

Merlin followed Gilli over to the counter where Gilli handed him a two-page triplicate form.

“You’re sure this isn’t illegal, or anything?” Merlin asked.

“Trust me,” Gilli said, handing Merlin a pen. “When you’re ready to adopt a cat, you’ll be glad you got the red tape out of the way ahead of time.”

“Is it true that you’ll need me to give you a blood sample and promise you my first born?” Merlin asked, chuckling.

“Along with FaceBook links, your credit report, references, complete sexual history, and your resume,” Gilli said.

Merlin’s eyes went wide.

“I’m just kidding… about the credit report,” Gilli said with a wink.

Merlin bit down on the pen cap to keep himself from blushing at Gilli’s feeble attempt at flirting. He looked down at the form in front of him and began to fill in the blanks. Just then, the father of the family who Gilli had been speaking to earlier approached the counter. “Thanks for everything,” the man said, grasping Gilli’s arm. His other hand held a carrier containing a calico cat.

“No problem,” said Gilli, waving to the mother and child. “I’m sure Penelope will be happy to be back at home.”

“She hates riding in the car, but thanks for checking her over,” the man said.

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” Gilli said.

A few moments after the family left, Merlin looked up from his paperwork. “Stray?” he asked.

“What’s that?” Gilli asked.

“Was it a stray getting reclaimed by her owner?” Merlin asked.

“Oh, no, it was an adoption,” Gilli said matter-of-factly. “A transfer of ownership, actually.”

“What does that mean?” Merlin asked, curious.

“Well, you see, that man’s father recently died. A few years before he died, he had adopted a cat from us. As you’ll notice in the fine print when you get to the bottom of our adoption contract, you’re not signing up to _own_ a pet,” Gilli said, motioning to Merlin’s paperwork. “You’re simply adopting one. If anything happens to you, we get the cat back.”

“Why would you want it back?” Merlin asked. “The goal here is to empty your place of animals, isn’t it?”

Gilli sighed. “It’s our obligation to the animal to make sure it gets a good permanent home,” Gilli said, as if he just stated the most logical thing in the world.

“So you’re telling me that when I get a cat from you, I don’t own it, and you get it back if I can’t keep it?” Merlin asked.

“That’s right. When you adopt a pet, we retain ownership of the animal. You promise to keep and care for the pet for the rest of its life. You can’t just give it away when you grow tired of cleaning up after it or if you move away and can’t take it… or if you die,” Gilli said.

“So you took this dead guy’s cat away from his family? That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard of,” Merlin said.

“Right. But technically, it was never _the dead guy’s_ cat. It’s always our cat,” Gilli said.

“But you let his family keep it,” Merlin said.

“In this case, they wanted to keep the cat, so they brought the animal in for us to check it out and then they filled out the adoption paperwork. It’s mostly a formality, but that’s what must be done,” Gilli said.

“I think I get it,” Merlin said. “Although it sounds like it makes more work for you.”

“Look, if we didn’t do it that way, an adopter could simply give one of our pets away to whoever they wanted. How would it be if they gave it to a research laboratory or someone who trains dogs to fight or someone who was convicted of animal cruelty?” Gilli asked.

“I guess I can see your point,” Merlin said.

“If someone adopts a pet from us, we have the right and an obligation to take it back if it doesn’t work out for whatever reason. We’re charged with protecting the animal’s welfare. We’re the SPCA, for God’s sake!” Gilli said.

Merlin smiled. “I guess it is true what they say about you wanting a person’s first born before you’ll let them adopt a pet.”

“Well, we can’t let our adoptive families take it upon themselves to place our pets in a new home without our approval. It would defeat the purpose of screening people for a good home in the first place,” Gilli said tapping his finger on Merlin’s application. “Speaking of which, I need to go help some of these customers.”

“It’s really busy today,” Merlin said, observing the clusters of people waiting for assistance.

“Hey,” Gilli said, smacking Merlin on the arm. “Why don’t you volunteer for us?”

“What?” Merlin asked.

“We always need volunteers, especially on the weekends when regular staff are so busy with adoptions. Those litterboxes don’t get scooped all by themselves, you know,” Gilli said.

Merlin grinned. “I suppose could do that,” he said.

“That would be great,” Gilli said. “Even a couple hours of your time would help us out.”

“Okay,” Merlin said. He was thrilled to have the chance to help the homeless cats. “How about next Saturday?”

“That would be perfect. If you could come by a couple hours before we close, that’s when I need the most help putting this place back together,” Gilli said, waving his hands around at the misplaced cat toys and informational leaflets that were strewn on the counter. 

“I’ll be here,” Merlin said.

“Awesome,” Gilli said. “Now, finish filling this out and start looking for a roommate and a new apartment. If you’re volunteering here, it won’t be long until you find the perfect cat for you.”

“Thanks, Gilli. I think I will,” Merlin said, turning his attention back to his paperwork, his spirit renewed by the hope of adopting a cat someday soon.

=^.^= )

“Go ahead and ask her,” Gwaine said as he and Merlin emerged into the cool air of Freya’s office. “Just in case.”

“Ask me what? And step away from that sensor, you’re letting all the heat in,” Freya said.

Monday promised to be another scorcher of a day. On their walk to work, Merlin and Gwaine had already planned to meet somewhere indoors for lunch, hoping to get out of the sun for a half-hour or so.

The sliding glass door closed behind Merlin’s back, blocking the heat from outside. Percival and Elyan already had their manifests in front of them. They scanned their lists more slowly than usual, no doubt hoping to take advantage of the air-conditioned comfort for as long as possible before hitting the road.

“First, Merlin wants to know if he has any messages this morning,” Gwaine said. “And then, he might have a request.”

Merlin snagged his messenger bag off the sorting table and pulled the manifest sheet from its pocket. His eyes scanned the addresses on the paperwork, making sure there were no deliveries scheduled for The Devonshire on his route.

“What’s wrong with Merlin? He doesn’t talk anymore?” Freya asked. She drummed her fingernails on her desk waiting for an answer.

Merlin cleared his throat before scanning his manifest for a second time, just to be certain.

The clicking of Freya’s nails on her desk told Merlin this was not going to be a good day to make demands of her. Elyan rolled his eyes at Freya when she wasn’t looking, while Percival pretended to ignore Freya’s tapping.

“Good,” Merlin said, satisfied that a morning visit to The Devonshire was not on the schedule. “You can’t send me to The Devonshire again, Freya.”

“Fantastic,” Freya said. “What have you done now, Emrys?”

The gravity of what happened to him on Friday night was brought sharply into focus again, now that Merlin was back at work. No longer alone in his apartment, he had no videos of Gwen or roommate searches on Craigslist to distract him from reality.

“They’ll find out sooner or later,” Gwaine said, nudging Merlin’s shoulder.

Merlin did his best to ignore Gwaine’s prodding so he could give the impression of taking charge of his own problem.

“You can’t send me there, even if a call comes in requesting me specifically,” Merlin told Freya. He replaced the manifest in the pocket of his messenger bag and slipped it over his head.

“What do you mean?” Percival asked. “You were practically begging Freya to send you to The Devonshire last week.”

Merlin sighed and closed his eyes, as if the action would erase the stares he got from his fellow messengers. He didn’t expect their sympathy, but his personal life was really none of their business. He opened his eyes to glare at Gwaine, who simply shrugged at him.

“I can only imagine,” Freya said. “As if my Monday mornings weren’t busy enough. Let me guess—now I have to deal with you clogging up the works by requesting special treatment. And something tells me that your Prince Charming will never have another pick-up or delivery for us again.”

“Sorry, Freya,” Merlin said. “We had a bit of a falling out, you might say.”

“Don’t be so easy on him, Merlin,” Gwaine said, grabbing his own messenger bag from Freya. “He ditched you.”

“Oh sweetie,” Freya said, cupping Merlin’s chin in her palm from across her desk. “And now you don’t want to see him again? I feel awful for you, really I do. But you do realize this is a place of business, don’t you?”

Merlin pushed her hand away. “I’m just asking you to keep him off my route—and his sister, too. It shouldn’t be too difficult. There are other messengers who work here,” Merlin said, glancing around the office in the hopes of getting some support from his co-workers.

“He must be something really special to make you act like such a girl,” Elyan said with a shake of his head.

“I don’t get it,” Leon said, poking his head in from the garage. “If he ditched you, why do you think he’d be calling you here?”

“Mmmm… that’s a good point,” Freya said. “I bet he only has Kilgharrah Kourier’s number for Merlin. Am I right?”

Merlin cringed.

“Wait a minute. You didn’t give him your cellphone number?” Gwaine asked, gaping speechlessly.

Merlin wilted under Freya’s gaze.

“That’s why I’ve got this message for you. It came in at eight o’clock Sunday morning—from Arthur Pendragon,” Freya tore the message from her notepad and handed it to Merlin.

“What does it say?” Gwaine asked.

“Merlin, call me,” Freya said. “And he leaves his phone number. How efficient.”

“I’m not calling him,” Merlin protested, crumbling the paper into his pocket. “He sent the message on Sunday? He left me on Friday night without a single word to wrap things up or make plans for another date.”

“He basically ran away,” Gwaine said, nodding to Freya in confirmation, which earned him a scowl from Merlin.

“He ran away?” Percival asked.

“It’s a girl thing,” Gwaine said.

Merlin cringed. “Shut up, Gwaine! I’d appreciate everyone minding their own business.” Turning to Freya, he added, “And if you would be so kind as to assign any future deliveries to Gwaine, I’m sure he’ll take care of them.”

Merlin hitched his messenger bag onto his hip and stormed past Leon.

“Don’t worry, Merlin. There are other fish in the sea,” Leon said, following behind him.

Merlin found his bike on the rack, a tag affixed to the handlebars, verifying that Leon had tuned it up over the weekend.

“I know,” Merlin said. “It’s just going to take me awhile.”

Merlin snapped the chinstrap buckle of his helmet into place and rode out the door.

He checked his manifest and wove through the morning traffic to his first stop on Tremont Street.

When he stepped through the door of the financial planner, he barely waved to the secretary who usually offered him a refill of coffee for his travel thermos. Instead, he rode off to his next stop, closer to Downtown Crossing. From the intersection of Tremont and Winter Streets, he could see the upper floors of his apartment building, nestled into the skyline like a puzzle piece. He pedaled past Winter Street and entered Chinatown, where it was much too early for him to be stopping for a snack of sticky rice or turnip cakes. He picked up Mr. Tan’s payroll to drop at the accountant later in the morning.

Merlin was picking up speed, pumping hard on the uphill when the sound of sirens blared through the hazy morning air. He jumped the curb and touched a foot to the sidewalk. Despite the urgency of the ambulance’s horns, most drivers merely tapped on their brakes. The cars had nowhere to go, even if their drivers tried to inch their way to the side of the road. Merlin took a swig from his water bottle and yawned, wishing he had stopped for more coffee. The weekend had been draining for him, and he spent both nights tossing and turning beneath the sheets.

A call came in from Freya who took a moment to ask how his morning was going, before she explained that she needed him to make a pick up at Dr. Disler’s. He was a psychiatrist in the South End who often needed documents delivered to Beth Israel Hospital. Maybe he could check into getting some psychiatric help while he was there—at a discount, Merlin told Freya, who seemed to be amused by the idea. The doc would probably laugh Merlin right out of the office when he learned that Merlin was so obsessed with cats that it had ruined his chances for a relationship with Arthur.

He chained his bike to the wrought iron railing at the brownstone and planned a route for his next half-dozen stops in his head. He’d avoid Fenway at all costs, even if it meant jumbling Freya’s meticulously organized manifest. There was no need to torture himself with the memory of his nearly perfect date with Arthur. At the last minute, he decided against describing his sad tale of woe to the psychiatrist’s office manager, who handed him the documents for the hospital. He joined her for a quick cup of tea, which satisfied his craving for caffeine in the late morning. He left the office and pedaled down the sidewalk of the tree-lined street, flanked by million-dollar condos.

He considered stopping at the MSPCA on his way to Coolidge Corner so he could pick Gilli’s brain on the best way to narrow down potential roommates on Craigslist. But when he got to the intersection, he decided to leave that task for later. He wasn’t in any mood to deal with Gilli’s flirting. It would only remind him of what he had lost with Arthur. He could always stop by later in the week, if he still thought Gilli’s advice could be useful.

On the long straightaway of Huntington Avenue, Merlin couldn’t get Arthur and his sudden departure from the train out of his mind. He slid his hand into his pocket and felt for the crumpled paper with the message Freya had given him. He was almost positive that the mention of cats drove Arthur away. When he couldn’t be completely satisfied with that, he beat himself up a little more by deciding that if not for his obsession with Gwen, it was the groping and kissing that drove Arthur away. Maybe it was all a big mistake.

Merlin couldn’t bring himself to call Arthur. He probably only wanted to officially dump Merlin anyway. No, it was best to leave their failed date with an ambiguous ending. Besides, Merlin was too angry about what happened. After all he went through to make certain their date was perfect, from ironing his clothes, to shaving, to saving Arthur’s life—he couldn’t _do_ any better than that on a date. And if that wasn’t good enough for a second date with Arthur, then Merlin would never be good enough. He wished he hadn’t been so excited in the first place. The sheer dizzying anticipation of spending the night with Arthur, especially when everything had been going so well, was what made Arthur’s sudden departure from the train sting so badly.

Then, there was still the matter of finding a date for his mother’s wedding. If worse came to worst, he could dress Gwaine in a tux and bring him along, he supposed. God knows Gwaine owed him one for blabbing Merlin’s business to the whole office.

When he got to Beth Israel, he traded the psych documents for a chilly insulated container that was going to Boston Children’s Hospital, a mere quarter of a mile away. They never told him what the insulated packages contained. He only knew they were important. Merlin pedaled hard, imagining that the Styrofoam-encased package that rode on his handlebars might be a heart that would replace some unfortunate broken one. In the lobby, he caught his breath after handing off the package to the waiting orderly. He wished his own broken heart could be replaced as easily, with a spin down a connecting alleyway between the hospitals.

The afternoon brought more of the same. Day after day, the week passed much like any other week. He made his deliveries by day, grumbling at Gwaine whenever he got the chance. By night, when he returned to his lonely apartment, he searched the Internet for a new place to live. When he became convinced that nearly everyone advertising for a roommate on Craigslist had spent time in prison at some point in their lives, he turned to watching Gwen on YouTube. If only Merlin’s days were as simple as Gwen and her owner’s. His only care in the world would be choosing the angle from which to film his cat jumping into a box. What a life.

By the time Friday afternoon came, Merlin was looking forward to shutting himself in his apartment where he wouldn’t have to deal with customers or co-workers for two blissful days. He hoped more downtime might pull him out of his funk. He’d fill the days with X-Box and baseball, with free skunky beer and Craigslist, and more Gwen, always more Gwen… He rode through the doors of Kilgharrah Kourier and tossed his empty messenger bag on Freya’s sorting table.

“Just a minute,” Freya said into the phone. “Merlin, wait up, I have another delivery for you.”

Merlin blew out a breath. It was already past quitting time and he wanted nothing more than to go home and sulk. He waited while Freya finished her call.

“It’s urgent,” Freya said, handing him an envelope. “Customer by the name of Annis, thirty-nine eleven at The Devonshire.”

“Freya,” Merlin whined. “You know I can’t go there. Send Gwaine.”

“Gwaine can’t go. That was just him on the phone. He got doored on Beacon Street and he’s in an ambulance on his way to the hospital,” Freya said.

“Oh my God, is he alright?” Merlin quickly traded whatever concerns he had about The Devonshire for his friend’s well-being.

Freya raised her palm to him. “He says he’s fine. The ambulance is just a precaution. Leon is there picking up the bike and Elyan is finishing Gwaine’s deliveries.”

Merlin wondered where Percival was, but he figured he’d lose all Freya’s respect if he were to ask if maybe he could make the delivery instead. Fortunately, Freya was too quick with her directions.

“She’s on a completely different floor than Prince Charming,” Freya said. “Go!”

Merlin shoved the envelope into his messenger bag and rode out the door.

He pedaled up the street to The Devonshire. Knowing his luck, he’d run into Arthur. It had been that kind of week. Arthur had called again on Monday and once on Tuesday, Freya told him, but by Wednesday, he must have given up. Merlin was relieved. He had too many other things to think about besides wondering why someone would be kissing him one minute and then running away at the mere mention of a cat. He didn’t need that kind of boyfriend. Thinking about his date with Arthur only made him angry now.

Merlin chained his bike to the light pole. He tried to keep his head down while his eyes scanned the windows into the lobby, just in case a certain former client happened to be passing through on his way to the elevator.

The usual doorman let him in and buzzed thirty-nine eleven. Ms. Annis gave the okay and Merlin joined several other people in the elevator, pressing the button for the thirty-ninth floor.

Merlin squeezed his way into the back corner of the elevator. He was hot and sweaty from riding all day and he figured he’d give The Devonshire’s residents a break. He took off his gloves and shoved them into the back pocket of his Lycra biking shirt.

At the fourteenth floor, two people exited the car, which freed up more room for Merlin and the remaining people who, Merlin estimated from their business suits, were returning home from a day at the office. Another passenger got off at twenty-seven and Merlin began to panic. What if the elevator didn’t stop at thirty-nine and continued on to forty instead? He took a deep breath and pressed the number thirty-nine again for good measure, even though that button was already illuminated.

He breathed a sigh of relief when the elevator doors opened at the thirty-ninth floor. His relief was short-lived, however, because who stood there, bouncing on his heels in the plush carpeting, but Arthur Pendragon himself.

=^.^= )


	5. Chapter 5

“Arthur,” Merlin said, his mouth hanging open, oblivious to the other riders in the elevator.

Arthur smiled weakly at him, but Merlin’s brain screamed, “Avoid! Avoid! Avoid!”

Merlin couldn’t think fast enough, so his reflexes took over to remove him from the danger outside the elevator door. He frantically pressed every button on the panel, his eyes scanning for the “Close Door” button as each number lit up with an insistent push of his finger.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, shoving his hand between the doors, preventing them from closing, their mirrored surface reflecting Merlin’s panic back to him.

Merlin couldn’t avoid the stares from the remaining occupants of the elevator. He bit his lower lip and clenched the strap to his messenger bag tightly. Despite the angry murmurs of the riders, Arthur boarded the elevator and punched the number forty for his floor.

“Going up,” Arthur said, giving a confident smile to the disgruntled riders.

“No! I need to make my delivery,” Merlin said, adrenaline kicking in. He jammed his hand between the doors and prised them open again, stepping out of the elevator and into the chilly hallway.

“Excuse me,” Arthur said to the elevator’s occupants as he followed Merlin into the hall of the thirty-ninth floor.

The riders acted quickly to ensure the door finally shut, before they were subjected to any further delays.

Merlin strode down the hallway, the plush carpet giving way beneath his feet. His eyes scanned the numbers on each door, looking for number eleven. He couldn’t believe he had run into Arthur on his first trip back to The Devonshire since their date. What was Arthur doing here? He wasn’t even on his own floor. Merlin could feel his heart pounding in his ears.

“Merlin, wait,” Arthur called, seemingly right on his heels.

Finally, the gold plated eleven marked the door in front of Merlin. He sighed with relief and knocked four times with the brass knocker, ignoring Arthur, although it was difficult when Arthur ran up to Merlin and leaned against the wall next to his client’s door.

“You’ve not answered my calls,” Arthur said, panting from his run down the hallway.

Merlin thought he could hear footsteps coming to the door of thirty-nine eleven. Still, he was amused by Arthur’s breathlessness, his exquisitely muscled chest rising and falling, his hair sleep-tousled as if he had just gotten out of bed. Merlin clenched his jaw and averted his eyes to the ceiling instead. No, he hadn’t respond to Arthur’s calls. It was too little, too late. Merlin knew enough to quit while he was ahead. Arthur hadn’t tried calling him until Sunday. For all Arthur cared, Merlin could have been lying in the gutter on Friday night. He could have been attacked by a pack of stray dogs who roamed the streets at night looking for distracted bicycle messengers. Not to mention that Arthur really had led Merlin on—yet another reason that Merlin was pissed off at him.

“Every time I called Kilgharrah Kourier, that witch Freya sent a different courier to me, when I only wanted to see you again,” Arthur said, his voice wavering.

“Uh,” Merlin said, “I told her to do that.”

Arthur let his finger trace a path down the strap of Merlin’s messenger bag, from Merlin’s shoulder and across his chest to where a smattering of dark hair lurked beneath the Lycra. “I’d like to explain,” he said.

It finally dawned on Merlin that maybe, just maybe, Arthur wasn’t calling to break it off with him, after all. However improbable it was to think such a thing, it made Merlin fight back an urge to smile.

Just then, the door at thirty-nine eleven opened and an older woman peered out at them.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Annis,” Arthur said with a smile.

“Are you all set now?” Ms. Annis asked.

“Yes, thanks for everything,” Arthur said, giving Ms. Annis a little wave.

“No problem,” Ms. Annis said, closing the door behind her.

“But I have a delivery for you,” Merlin said, waving the manila envelope in front of the door as it closed.

Arthur folded his arms across his chest. “Sorry, Merlin. The envelope is empty.”

“No it isn’t,” Merlin said, feeling the envelope for its contents. “Freya wouldn’t send me out here for nothing.”

“Go ahead and open it,” Arthur said.

“Of course I’m not going to open it,” Merlin said. He held the envelope up to the light from a sconce that illuminated the hallway. “That’s one of our rules as bicycle messengers. It’s confidential. We can’t just open an envelope whenever we feel like it.”

Merlin stared at the envelope and felt how thin it was. That didn’t mean anything, though. A single document might only be the thickness of a piece of tissue paper… but surely even tissue paper is bulkier than this, Merlin thought.

In a flash, Arthur pushed himself off the wall and grabbed the envelope from Merlin’s hands. Merlin was caught off-guard from staring at the envelope against the light of the sconce. He felt it slip between his fingers and out of his possession.

“Give it back,” Merlin shouted. He’d lose his job over this for sure.

Arthur began to pick at the seal.

“You can’t do that,” Merlin yelled. He slapped at Arthur’s hands to get him to stop opening the envelope.

Arthur yanked the envelope out of Merlin’s reach and began to run down the hall with it held high. Merlin’s arm got caught in the strap of his messenger bag and he dropped it, leaving it in the middle of the hallway as he tore after Arthur.

When Arthur reached the end of the hall, he ducked into an alcove that had been arranged into a sitting area with a pair of plush club chairs, a low table, and a commanding view across the harbor. Merlin caught up to Arthur there and tried to wrest the envelope from him. He threw his arms around Arthur’s waist, tackling him. Arthur was caught off balance and tripped over the leg of one chair. He turned in mid air, trying to shake Merlin off as both men crashed to the floor.

Merlin was grateful for the carpeting beneath his knees and the helmet on his head. He landed with his shoulder smashing into Arthur’s middle, knocking the wind out of him. Over the past few weeks, he had imagined what it would feel like to roll around on the floor with Arthur. Unfortunately, he had very different circumstances in mind, most of which involved nakedness and a good deal of moaning. He scrambled over Arthur’s body, fingers digging into Arthur’s crimson polo shirt, but it was too late. Arthur had already worked his thumb under the envelope’s flap while Merlin reached for it unsuccessfully. Arthur tore the glue seal open.

“See?” Arthur said from his position, stretched out on the floor. He blew into the envelope so Merlin could see what it contained.

It was empty.

Merlin got to his knees and threw himself into one of the chairs, his chest heaving from the struggle.

“You’re still not supposed to open it. It wasn’t for you, even if Freya did set me up,” Merlin said, unbuckling his helmet and shoving it off his head. His hair was damp and matted with sweat.

Arthur pushed himself off the floor and knelt at the side of Merlin’s chair. “Sorry,” he said, panting. “I knew you wouldn’t open it for yourself.”

“Ms. Annis was in on this?” Merlin asked.

Arthur nodded. “She’s a good neighbor.”

“And Freya?” Merlin asked again, more seriously.

Arthur seemed to be undecided about what to do with his hands. He folded them beneath his chin and leaned onto the armrest of Merlin’s chair.

“She helped me. But it was only because you were such a bitch to her at work this week,” Arthur said.

“And let me guess—Gwaine isn’t hurt, is he?” Merlin said, encircling Arthur’s wrist with his hand. “I thought I needed to get to the hospital right away to make sure he was okay. You know he’s my friend.”

“I didn’t think you wanted to see me again,” Arthur said, lowering his eyes. “It was the only thing I could think of to do.”

“You’re a very bad man,” Merlin said, squeezing Arthur’s wrist.

“You’ve got very nice friends,” Arthur said, brightening. “They care about you.”

Merlin shifted in the chair and turned to face Arthur. 

“Oh, sure, if you count a talent for deception as a good quality in a friend,” Merlin said.

“I know you’re angry with me,” Arthur said. He rotated his wrist so his palm pressed against Merlin’s palm. “Can you give me another chance?”

Merlin wanted to be angry. He wanted to scream. He had felt awful all week long, believing that Arthur had left him alone at the end of their date because Merlin had mentioned his love for cats one too many times.

“I wrote you off when you got off the train, and when you didn’t call me the next day,” Merlin said.

“I couldn’t call you,” Arthur said. “The only number I had was for Kilgharrah Kourier, and I kept getting that infernal answering machine. I left a message each day. I know Freya gave them to you.”

“She did, witch that she is,” Merlin said. A flood of warmth rushed over him. Perhaps Arthur really didn’t mean to leave him as he did. “I don’t really know what happened. Did I misunderstand you? We were on a date, weren’t we?”

“Sorry, it’s my fault,” Arthur said, pressing the back of Merlin’s hand to his cheek. Merlin felt Arthur’s shaky breath on his wrist.

“Was it all my talk about cats?” Merlin asked.

Arthur closed his eyes. “It was,” Arthur said. “But it’s not like you think.”

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Merlin said. He was tempted to draw his hand away but Arthur’s fingers pressed tighter.

“I panicked,” Arthur said.

Arthur turned his head slightly, and Merlin felt Arthur’s lips touching the back of his hand for a kiss. It was gentle and slow, filled with a caution.

“Let me make it up to you,” Arthur said.

Merlin looked into Arthur’s eyes, shining and sincere.

“Let me,” Arthur said. “We can go upstairs right now if you’d like. I have something I want to show you.”

Merlin wasn’t going to let Arthur off that easily. What did Arthur want to show him? His etchings? He wasn’t going to fall for that, despite his rapidly hardening cock that his bike shorts would do nothing to conceal. He took a breath and tried to gather his thoughts as he watched the boats sailing in the harbor. “I’m a mess, I’ve been riding the streets all day, and I’ve got to get the bike back to the garage for Leon tonight—”

“Come back here then, after you’re finished,” Arthur said. “I’ll make you dinner, whatever you’d like.”

Merlin weighed his options. He could get up right now, ride the elevator to the lobby, and never see Arthur again, or he could take Arthur up on his offer and see where the night might lead them. 

“You know I’m vegetarian?” Merlin asked.

Arthur grinned. “I got the feeling you were. You love animals so much, it only makes sense,” he said. “I have some fresh asparagus. And I make a mean pasta primavera.”

Merlin couldn’t help but laugh.

Arthur let go of his hand and reached up to stroke his cheek with the back of his knuckles before tracing Merlin’s smile with the pad of his thumb.

When Arthur rose up onto his knees, Merlin leaned forward. He speared his fingers through Arthur’s hair as their lips brushed. Arthur made a little moaning noise as he opened his mouth to allow Merlin’s tongue to sweep inside. Merlin clenched his fists, tugging Arthur closer still by his silky hair.

The chime sounded from the elevator down the hall as the doors opened to let the riders out. Merlin couldn’t care less if someone wandered to where he and Arthur kissed among the chairs and table that had been shoved askew while they struggled over the envelope.

It was Arthur who first broke the kiss to rest his forehead against Merlin’s while they caught their breath.

Merlin leaned back and let his eyes flicker over Arthur’s face. “What have you been doing this week?” Merlin asked. “You look terrible.”

Arthur pouted adorably. “I haven’t been sleeping well, I can assure you of that,” he said. 

Merlin could hear footsteps trodding down the hallway, followed by the jingling of keys.

“Hey, is this your bag?” a man called from outside an apartment door.

“Oh shit,” Merlin said. “My bag.” He got to his feet and ruffled Arthur’s hair before adjusting himself and trotting down the hall.

Behind him, Arthur pushed the chair out of his way and followed Merlin, picking up his bike helmet off the floor.

“It’s mine,” Merlin called. “I’ve got it.”

Merlin slung the bag over his shoulder as the apartment door closed. He felt Arthur set the bike helmet onto his head and slip his hands around his waist, a welcome touch of comfort after what had been a lonely week.

He realized that he could stay here, making out with Arthur in the hallway all night, but he still needed to get the bike back to Kilgharrah Kourier before he rushed home for a quick shower. Caving in to his desire now would only prolong the suspense.

Merlin took Arthur’s hand and led him to the elevator, pressing the up button. When the elevator arrived, Merlin hit the button for the fortieth floor. In the time it took for the elevator to go up one floor, Arthur had tugged the strap of Merlin’s messenger bag to pull him into another searing kiss. Merlin’s hands gripped tightly around Arthur’s biceps, thankful that no one was waiting for the elevator when the door opened again. Merlin hovered between the elevator doors, holding them open with his foot.

“I’ll see you soon,” Merlin said.

Arthur stepped out of the elevator and into the hall. “Take your time,” he said. “But hurry.”

Merlin laughed as the elevator door shut.

=^.^= )

“I hate you both!” Merlin shouted at Freya and Gwaine.

He had waved his gloved hand in front of the sensor to trigger open the door to Freya’s office before heading into the garage to turn his bike over to Leon.

Gwaine, who was sitting on top of Freya’s desk, burst into laughter.

“They’ve been waiting an hour for you to get back,” Leon said, nodding at the pair.

Merlin shook his head as he watched Freya high-five Gwaine through the glass door that had slid shut again. He came to a stop, touching a foot down to the stained pavement of the garage floor.

“They’re up to no good,” Merlin said, swinging his leg over the crossbar of his bike.

“Looks like it worked,” Leon said.

Merlin unbuckled his helmet and pulled it off his head.

“She’s all yours,” Merlin said brightly, letting go of the handlebars, so Leon could take the bike.

“Thanks, Merlin. It’s good to have you back,” Leon said.

Merlin walked to the sliding glass door and waved his arms for it to open again.

“Whoohoo!” he shouted as walked through the door, circling his arms as if he were flexing his biceps.

Gwaine and Freya applauded, no doubt relieved that their plan had worked, after spending a week dodging Merlin’s foul mood.

Merlin leaned over and kissed Freya on the cheek. “And thank you, my dear, for never paying attention to anything I ask of you.”

Freya did her best to be gracious, but then said, “It’s Friday night. Give up your bag so I can get out of here.”

Merlin ducked his head beneath the strap of his messenger bag and handed it to Freya. She pulled the manifest from its pocket and peered inside to make sure the bag was empty.

“And you look none worse for wear after your devastating accident,” Merlin said, punching Gwaine on the arm.

“You have no idea,” Gwaine said, sipping his iced coffee. “I felt bad about lying to you, but you’ve been an ass to me all week and I figured I had nothing to lose.”

“Well done, friend,” Merlin said.

“So, it worked?” Gwaine asked. “He doesn’t really hate you?”

“No,” Merlin said, grabbing Gwaine’s cup away from him and peeling off the lid. “He doesn’t hate me at all.”

Gwaine beamed. “What’s next? Did he ask you out again?”

Merlin raised the cup, and his eyebrows.

Gwaine nodded and Merlin chugged down a few swallows.

“Let’s go,” Merlin said, snapping the lid back onto the cup. “I need your help. I have a date tonight.”

“Tonight?” asked Gwaine.

“Goodnight, Freya!” Merlin called as he headed out through the sliding glass door with Gwaine in tow.

“He’s cooking for me,” Merlin said excitedly, as they walked down Tremont Street.

“I’m impressed,” Gwaine said.

“I need a shower. I need to floss. I need to pack a bag,” Merlin said. He turned around to make sure Gwaine wasn’t trailing too far behind him.

“What are you going to wear?” Gwaine asked as he hurried to catch up.

“I don’t know, but thank God I did laundry yesterday,” Merlin said.

“What are you thinking of? It’s casual, right?”

“I’ve got those plaid board shorts,” Merlin said.

“Those look stupid,” Gwaine said.

“What do you mean? They make me look hot,” Merlin said.

Gwaine rolled his eyes. “It’s a bathing suit. You can’t wear a bathing suit on a date.”

“Why not?”

“Wear those light shorts, the ones that are almost white. They’ll look good with a plain T-shirt,” Gwaine said as they dodged a car on Winter Street. “You have that black one.”

“Black?” Merlin asked.

“Sure, it’ll make your eyes pop,” Gwaine said. “And it matches your hair.”

“Seriously?” Merlin asked. “I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

“And wear a belt.”

Merlin took the stairs two at a time and unlocked the door to his apartment. Gwaine insisted on accompanying him just in case Merlin needed more fashion help. Merlin flipped the switch on the air-conditioning, pulled the clothes from his closet, and jumped into the shower. After a quick wank and an even quicker scrub, he emerged from the shower with a renewed sense of urgency. He didn’t want to keep Arthur waiting.

It seemed like the minutes had flown by. When he had left Arthur, Merlin thought it would take him an hour to get back to The Devonshire. Now, it would be closer to two hours later.

“Do you want something to eat before you go?” Gwaine asked, his voice muffled with his head in the refrigerator door.

“No, I told you he’s making me dinner. Vegetarian!” Merlin yelled to Gwaine from the bathroom.

Merlin decided against shaving. He was pressed for time. Besides, his hands were shaking so badly with nervous excitement that he’d look like he got in a fight with a feral cat if he tried to shave. He threw on his clothes and spent entirely too much time finger-combing his hair.

“Ready!” he said when he emerged from the bathroom.

Gwaine was at the kitchen counter, engrossed in something that played on Merlin’s laptop. He looked up and whistled at Merlin who spun around, wiggling his ass seductively in jest.

“What are you watching?” Merlin asked. He grabbed his drawstring bag off the handle to the bathroom door and began to stuff items into it. Condoms, a toothbrush, floss. He rummaged through his dresser drawers for a clean pair of underwear. 

“That cat,” said Gwaine, stuffing grapes into his mouth from a bowl he had found in Merlin’s refrigerator.

“You are?” Merlin asked.

“She’s trying to get into the box, but it’s got these cardboard dividers in it,” Gwaine said, tossing a few more grapes into his mouth.

“Whoa! I can’t believe you! After all the shit you’ve given me?” Merlin asked in disbelief.

“She’s great. Now she’s pawing the dividers out of the way. You go, girl!”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Merlin said, shaking his head. He walked to the television and pulled a DVD off the shelf beneath it.

“What’s that?” Gwaine asked, looking up from the screen.

Merlin shook the DVD at Gwaine. “It’s Gwen. I burned a DVD of her YouTube uploads. I figure if Arthur’s really interested in me, he’ll need to know more about her,” Merlin said.

Gwaine silently arched an eyebrow at him.

Merlin deflated with a loud breath.

“You’re right,” Merlin said, his shoulders sagging when he looked at the DVD cover that he had meticulously designed and printed with titles for each of the YouTube postings.

“Isn’t that what got you into trouble with Arthur in the first place?” Gwaine asked.

Merlin bit his lip. Gwaine was right. But what could Merlin do? He could think of only one thing. “I swear to you Gwaine, I won’t pull it out until I’m absolutely sure that Arthur is okay with my….”

“Obsession?” Gwaine offered.

“Obsession. In fact, I can assure you that I won’t mention cats at all. Not a single word about cats… unless Arthur brings them up first. How’s that?” Merlin asked. He knew it was a promise he’d have to work hard to keep, but if it meant making amends with Arthur and having a chance with him, he’d do it.

“It seems like that would be impossible for you,” Gwaine said, turning his eyes back to the laptop. “Nice background wallpaper, by the way. How many times have you wanked to Gwen’s owner’s hand?”

“None of your business,” Merlin laughed.

“You’re hopeless,” Gwaine said, pitching a grape at Merlin, which he caught and ate.

“You underestimate me, Gwaine. I’m on my way,” Merlin said, shoving the DVD into his bag, just on the off chance that Arthur was a closeted Gwen fan. “Wish me luck.”

“You know,” Gwaine said, shaking his finger at the computer screen. “I bet if I studied these videos long enough, I could figure out exactly where they’re made.”

“Yeah, really?” Merlin asked. “Well, go for it. And lock up when you’re done. I doubt I’ll be back tonight.”

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Gwaine said, taking his eyes off the screen long enough for Merlin to wave to him before heading out the door.

=^.^= )

“Hello,” Arthur said as he swung the door open. “I was beginning to think that you weren’t coming back.

Before Merlin could say anything, Arthur leaned forward and pressed his lips to Merlin’s, eliciting a surprised whimper from him.

As if they were on automatic pilot, Merlin’s hands went to Arthur’s shoulders. His heart raced with the knowledge that this was the very first time he would be inside Arthur’s apartment as a guest. It seemed so different now, with Arthur’s arms around his waist, his broad hands against the small of his back, drawing him closer.

Merlin let his palms drift to Arthur’s chest. He ran his hands over the fabric of Arthur’s polo shirt, feeling a nipple pebble beneath his fingers while they kissed. It reminded him that less than two hours ago, they were wrestling over the decoy envelope in the hallway downstairs.

“Oh, I brought this for you,” Merlin said breathlessly, when they broke away. He took the bottle wrapped in brown paper from the Boston Wine Exchange out of his drawstring bag and handed it to Arthur. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I went with a Pinot Gris.”

Arthur pulled the bottle from its wrapper and read the label. “King Estate,” he said, reading the label.

“It sounded good,” Merlin said. He hated to admit it, but Merlin could barely contain himself in the wine shop when he was confronted with the Gato Negro Sauvignon Blanc and the Fat Cat Cellar’s Pinot Grigio. He narrowly avoided selecting something more feline, remembering his promise to Gwaine.

“That does have a nice ring to it,” Arthur said. “Let’s get it into the chiller.”

Merlin set his bag on the hall table where Arthur had neatly stacked a dozen empty soda cases, broken down flat for recycling, Merlin guessed. Funny, he never thought of Arthur as a fan of Mountain Dew, and it made him realize how much more he wanted to learn about Arthur, now that they were speaking to each other again. Merlin figured the table was as good a place as any to leave his stuff. It wasn’t like he wanted to pull out the ‘I Am Gwen’ DVD already, and he complimented himself on his restraint. He followed Arthur into the kitchen, which he had only previously seen from the entryway.

“Can I get you a glass now, or would you rather wait for this to chill?” Arthur asked, his hand cupping Merlin’s shoulder and skimming downward to his elbow. “I have a bottle of Chardonnay open that’s already cold.”

“I’ll take a glass of what you have open,” Merlin said. The aroma of sautéed vegetables on the stove was heavenly. A pot of boiling water sent steam into the air. He stood in the doorway to the kitchen while Arthur went to the refrigerator for the bottle.

“Please make yourself at home,” Arthur said.

Merlin backed away from the door, wondering if he should give Arthur some space to cook. He wandered into the dining room, which was as sleek and modern as he had imagined, with four chairs arranged around a glass-topped table. Arthur had already set the table with real silver and cloth napkins. The overhead lamp had been dimmed to a romantic glow.

In the living room, Arthur had put a CD on, so music played softly through the apartment. The violin and piano arrangement sounded vaguely familiar to Merlin—something he had heard recently, although he couldn’t remember where. He was never one to listen to classical music—not since he was in high school, yet he remembered hearing this particular tune recently. He shrugged and decided not to worry about it. He had enough on his mind with spending the evening with Arthur.

“Cheers,” Arthur said, handing him a glass.

Merlin accepted the wine and tilted the glass to touch Arthur’s. “Cheers,” Merlin said.

“To second chances,” Arthur said, his blue eyes locked onto Merlin’s while he took a sip.

“To second chances,” Merlin agreed, trying not to shudder with anticipation under Arthur’s gaze. The wine was sweet on his tongue. He hoped that it would help him to relax a bit. He couldn’t help but think about how badly his last date with Arthur had ended, and he was committed to avoiding a repeat experience. This was to be a new beginning.

While the wine helped Merlin to calm down, he certainly didn’t want to get drunk. He needed to keep his wits about him so he could make sure to avoid mentioning cats—for the time being, at least. Gwaine was right. His exuberance about cats got him into trouble the first time around, and he’d avoid the subject at all costs tonight. After their skirmish in the neighbor’s hallway, Arthur had confessed that Merlin’s obsession with cats had something to do with their falling out last Friday. Merlin hoped they could get to the bottom of their misunderstanding so it didn’t happen again. Most of all, he hoped Arthur wasn’t one of those people who thought all cats were mean or sneaky, or that they’d steal a baby’s breath. He supposed he’d find out soon enough.

“You’ve got a great view,” Merlin said, noting the ships in the harbor, their masts shining with the last vestiges of the setting sun.

“You can almost smell the ocean,” Arthur said, stepping into place beside Merlin at the window. “Even up this high.”

Merlin sipped his wine while admiring the dizzying view of the city. He felt Arthur put a hand around his waist and he longingly leaned into it so he could feel the pressure of Arthur’s hand more firmly. Merlin let out a gasp when Arthur let his fingers inch down the front of Merlin’s shorts to his pocket.

“You’ve got your cellphone with you?” Arthur asked, squeezing the rectangle outlined by the fabric.

“Should I not?” Merlin asked, curious.

“Let’s have it,” Arthur said, slipping his hand inside the pocket to retrieve the device. He took a quick look at it before handing it to Merlin. “Go ahead, turn it on.”

Merlin was game for whatever Arthur had in mind. He unlocked his phone and handed it to Arthur, enjoying what the tickle of Arthur’s breath on his neck did to his cock.

Merlin watched while Arthur punched in a number with his perfectly manicured nails. Soon, the voicemail picked-up.

_You have reached Arthur Pendragon, please leave a message and I’ll return your call._

“Hello Arthur,” Arthur said. “This is Merlin’s phone number. Now, you’ll never have to plead your case to Freya, Gwaine, or Mr. Kilgharrah ever again. Good luck to you.”

Merlin burst out laughing as Arthur ended the call. “Kilgharrah? You had his help too?”

“A little bit,” Arthur said, shaking his head and handing Merlin’s phone back to him. “I don’t know how you can work for him. I had no idea what he was talking about half the time.”

“You’re not the only one,” Merlin said, taking another sip of wine.

“Look,” Arthur said, skimming his fingertips along Merlin’s forearm. “I need to get back to the kitchen because I doubt a burnt dinner will impress you much. My father had varied taste in music. Why don’t you take a look through the CDs and see if there’s something you’d like?”

Merlin nodded at the extensive collection on the shelves. “I can do that,” he said.

As soon as Arthur left the room, Merlin slipped his phone back into his pocket and began to look for a CD.

From the collection of media on display, Arthur’s late father seemed to have a little of everything from Aerosmith to Ziani, all arranged in alphabetical order from top to bottom. Merlin figured it would be best to stick with classical. He knelt on the floor to get a closer look at the musicians who fell late in the alphabet. REM and Rachmaninoff, U2 and Uccellini, Van Halen and Vivaldi… Four Seasons would be appropriate, especially since the summer heat was ready to give way to fall. Merlin took the CD off the shelf.

As he stood up, he caught a glimpse of something wedged between the shelves and the stereo cabinet. Arthur seemed busy in the kitchen, arranging food on the plates. When Merlin was certain that Arthur wasn’t watching him, he let his fingers skim across the hardwood floor to retrieve the object. It was exactly what he thought it was at first glance—a baseball that had somehow rolled behind the shelves.

Squatting in front of the CDs, Merlin picked the ball up and held it in his hand. He thought it was strange for Arthur to have a baseball rolling around on the floor of his immaculate apartment.

This was no ordinary baseball.

It was the foul ball that had nearly hit Arthur during the Sox-Tiger’s game. Merlin was sure of it.

And there was hair… only a few strands of it… but definitely hair… clinging to the white leather where the ball had rested on the floor.

At Hunith’s house, Merlin had about a half-dozen balls that he had caught or snagged by chance over his lifetime of attending baseball games. He kept them on a shelf with his high school diploma and his college degree, as if they marked an important milestone in his life. Merlin knew Arthur wasn’t nearly as big a baseball fan as he was, but still the question of why Arthur would leave this ball on the floor behind the stereo beckoned. And the hair… 

Merlin examined a strand of it under the light. It was definitely—

“I hope you’re hungry,” Arthur said.

Merlin jumped at the sound of Arthur’s voice.

“Have you found something to listen to?” he asked.

Merlin recovered his composure and left the ball on the floor.

“Sure, how about this?” Merlin asked, rising to his feet with the Vivaldi CD in hand.

“Looks good,” Arthur said, taking the CD and loading it into the tray.

Merlin bit his bottom lip. He wanted to ask Arthur about the cat hair. There had to be some explanation for it.

Maybe Arthur’s father had a cat?

Maybe his housekeeper wasn’t very thorough?

Maybe it was simply dust?

Thin strands of… 

Tabby-colored… dust.

Vivaldi’s violins took off and Merlin dug his fingernails into his palm. Maybe that would keep him from talking about cats, lest he find himself on Dr. Disler’s couch, spilling his guts about Gwen and how his love for her made a real human relationship impossible.

Arthur stepped back from the stereo.

“Let me get you a fresh glass,” Arthur said, taking Merlin’s glass from him with one hand and clasping Merlin’s hand in the other. Fortunately, he didn’t notice the half-moons that Merlin had pressed into his palm. “You must be starving.”

Arthur led Merlin into the dining room, where he offered him a chair.

“It smells wonderful,” Merlin said, trying to regain his focus on dinner. He unfolded his napkin and placed it over his lap.

“Here’s your Pinot Gris,” Arthur said, pouring the wine into a new glass for Merlin before filling his own.

Merlin watched as Arthur poured the wine. He breathed out a sigh, grateful that he hadn’t chosen one of the feline vineyards. He could do this. He could get through a date with Arthur without talking about cats.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve cooked for anyone,” Arthur said, taking a seat.

Merlin was surprised that Arthur sounded shy with this admission. He found it endearing.

“Well, it’s been a long time since anyone cooked for me,” Merlin said, taking his fork in hand. 

“Really, it’s the least I could do,” Arthur said, raising his wine glass to take a sip. “Since giving you the wrong impression last week.”

To Merlin, the moment was decidedly awkward. Still, he forbade himself from bringing up the topic that led to Arthur’s hasty departure. He bit into a spear of asparagus that he had twirled with the linguine on his fork.

“This is wonderful,” Merlin said, between bites. “You’ve really gone over and above what I expected.”

“Well, it’s my pleasure, after I missed seeing your smiling face all week. How are your mother’s wedding plans coming along?” Arthur asked, taking a bite. 

Merlin recalled that he had told Arthur about Hunith and Iseldir at the Sox game. “Fine, I think. I don’t know for sure, since she’s in Connecticut and I’m here, but I do know I’ll be the one to walk her down the aisle at the ceremony,” Merlin said, twirling another bite of pasta.

“That’s sweet,” Arthur said, biting into a breadstick. “You must be looking forward to it.”

“There’ll be a lot of relatives there who I only get to see every once in a while,” Merlin said. He wondered if this would be a good time to let Arthur know he wanted to bring a date to the wedding, but Arthur interrupted his thoughts.

“And your father? Are you close to him as well?” Arthur asked.

Merlin put his glass down after taking a sip of wine. “I don’t know him. My mother hooked up with him only once at a concert when she was still a teenager,” Merlin smiled. He had told the story countless times and it had ceased to bother him now that he was an adult.

“It’s too bad you don’t know him, but that’s a cool story,” Arthur said, taking another bite.

“I’m not sure it was so cool for my mother at the time,” Merlin said. “But she did all right as a single parent.”

“That she did,” Arthur said, waggling his eyebrows. “If you’re any indication.”

Merlin laughed. “You’re really pushing your luck,” he said.

“I’m so bad at flirting,” Arthur admitted with a laugh.

Merlin watched Arthur look at him from beneath his lashes. Arthur may have thought that Merlin was adorable, but truly there was nothing sweeter than Arthur who ran his father’s business, who nobly fought a legal battle against his sister, and who wasn’t afraid to admit his shortcomings. Besides admiring these many achievements, Merlin wanted to dip him in chocolate and lick him from head to toe for dessert. If only he loved cats as much as Merlin did… he’d be perfect.

“You seem to be doing fine. How have things gone for you this week?” Merlin asked, looking to divert the topic from cats, his own quirky family story, and his desire to lunge across the table to nibble on Arthur’s neck. “I haven’t been here, so I feel like I’ve missed a few transactions between you and Morgana.”

“It’s been difficult,” Arthur said, putting down his fork. He closed his eyes. “There’s every indication that Morgana will get what she wants.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Merlin said. He tried to put a positive spin on it to lift Arthur’s spirits. “But I’ve met her on my delivery route. She doesn’t seem so bad. Plus, she’s your sister. Isn’t there some way you can both be happy?”

Arthur shook his head. “That’s impossible,” he said.

“I don’t understand,” Merlin said, taking a sip of wine. He didn’t know much about sibling relations, but any kindergartener on the playground knew that sometimes he had to share. “Maybe if you could give a little, she’d let up on her claims?”

“I can’t,” Arthur said. He gripped his wine glass with tense fingers and looked Merlin in the eye. “There are some things more dear to people than their own relatives. I can’t budge on this. I won’t.”

Merlin was confused. Surely Arthur wasn’t talking about the apartment or any of its furnishings. Even if Morgana threatened to take those things away, they could be replaced. Merlin couldn’t imagine what could be more dear to him, besides his mother... and Aithusa, of course.

Just then, the Vivaldi ended and the CD player reverted back to the CD from earlier—Chopin, Merlin now realized.

At the first note, Merlin remembered where he had heard it before.

Gwen.

“Arthur?” Merlin breathed.

Arthur had something more important to him than his own sister.

Arthur’s fingers held the wine glass in an entirely familiar manner, each nail trimmed and polished to perfection.

The cat hair.

The empty Mountain Dew cases.

The cruise ship’s horn in the harbor.

Everything clicked.

The baseball.

The hardwood floors.

Arthur’s videography business.

Merlin’s mouth gaped open. He hyperventilated, his promise to stop mentioning cats in Arthur’s presence all but forgotten. He clenched the napkin with both fists, trying to steady his heart. He thought he might pass out.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, his eyes wide and panicked. “I swore I wouldn’t bring it up. I promised myself. It’s why I think you left me on the subway.”

“Merlin, I told you I had something to show you,” Arthur said. He stood and walked to Merlin’s chair, leaning close to whisper in Merlin’s ear. “Don’t ever think that your love for cats is a bad thing.”

Merlin let his napkin fall to the floor when he pushed his chair away from the table.

Looking more serious than Merlin had ever seen him, Arthur took Merlin’s hand and led him to the carpeted stairway next to the apartment’s entry door.

Merlin's heart felt like it was going to burst with excitement—like he had just gotten off the Tilt-a-Whirl and was ready to board the giant coaster. He went up the steps with Arthur to the upper level of the apartment where one open door led to a furnished bedroom and a second door was firmly shut. 

Arthur opened the door. “Here she is,” he said.

Gwen meowed.

=^.^= )


	6. Chapter 6

“Oh my God,” Merlin mouthed the words, but no sound escaped his throat when he saw the chubby cat purring at his feet. He didn’t know what to do first, so he stood there with his hand clasped over his mouth, afraid to move lest he awaken from some surreal dream, the moment vanishing like the pavement always did when he dreamed of crashing and burning on the bike.

“Hello, Gwen,” Arthur said, hoisting the cat with one arm under her belly. “I have someone very special to introduce you to today.”

Merlin clenched his fingers into a fist. “Oh, no, I’m not that special,” Merlin said, swallowing hard. He couldn’t imagine what he had done to deserve the honor of this cat’s company, and that of her owner, her glorious, gorgeous owner who Merlin wanted to ravish to within an inch of his life.

“I beg to differ,” Arthur said, pressing a kiss to the top of Gwen’s head. “He’s very special, indeed.”

Arthur shifted so that he cuddled Gwen to his chest, her white front paws kneading happily, a soft trill emanating from her throat.

“I don’t know what to say,” Merlin said, blinking back the tears of disbelief, feeling like a fool for getting all worked up over a cat, but at the same time knowing that Arthur understood exactly how he felt about this cat in particular.

Arthur scratched behind Gwen’s ear with a curling forefinger as her tail lashed back and forth. He bent his head to Gwen’s and said, “He’s adorable, isn’t he?”

Merlin finally began to breathe normally. “Can I… can I pet her?” he asked.

“No,” Arthur said. “She bites.”

Merlin furrowed his brow.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Sorry, I’m only kidding,” he said. “Go ahead and pet her. She’s the friendliest cat I’ve ever known.”

Merlin reached out a tentative hand and let his fingers sink into the soft fur of Gwen’s head.

Gwen leaned into the rub.

“Do you want to hold her?” Arthur asked.

“This is unbelievable,” Merlin said, at a loss for the words he wanted to say.

“Here you go,” Arthur said. “She’s all yours.”

Arthur detached Gwen from his chest. Her claws loosened from the red fabric of his polo, leaving behind a trace of white fur from her belly.

“She’s still shedding some,” Arthur said. “I hope you don’t mind a little cat hair.”

“I’ve lived half my life with a white cat,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “I don’t mind at all.”

Arthur placed Gwen on Merlin’s chest. Merlin supported Gwen, who clung softly to him using the pads of her feet more than her sharp claws.

“She’s beautiful,” Merlin said.

“Is she purring?” Arthur asked.

“Almost,” Merlin nodded. “I can feel it starting.”

Gwen was much lighter than Merlin had imagined. Her plush fur seemed to give the appearance of bulk, but beneath her fur coat, she was dainty and delicate.

Arthur petted Gwen’s head, while Merlin cradled her to his chest.

The silence was broken only by the sound of Gwen’s purr.

“I’m so sorry,” Arthur said, exhaling heavily.

“Whatever for?” Merlin asked.

Gwen looked toward Arthur, as if seeking his assurance that this affection toward a stranger was something safe for her to do.

Arthur stepped behind Merlin and wrapped his arms around him, his fingers gently stroking Gwen, encouraging her to purr for him as Merlin held her to his chest.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you about her,” Arthur said, pressing a soft kiss to the smooth flesh beneath Merlin’s ear. “On the subway, when I left you there. It was wrong of me.”

Merlin sighed with the feel of Arthur’s arms securely around him, his firm chest pressed solidly to Merlin’s back. As relieved as he was that Arthur truly loved cats, he still had questions about why Arthur left so abruptly that night. Merlin had assumed it was because of his incessant chatter about cats.

“What happened?” Merlin asked, his fingers anchored in Gwen’s fur. “I’ve worried about it all week long. I thought it was because I talked so much about cats. But now… this.”

“I panicked,” Arthur whispered, shifting to the side and letting his teeth graze over Merlin’s earlobe. “I didn’t know what to make of you. I knew you loved cats, but when you started going on about Gwen—”

“I do love cats,” Merlin said with a nod. “Maybe I love them too much. I shouldn’t have talked about them as much as I did if it drove you off.”

“No, Merlin, it wasn’t because of your love for cats,” Arthur said.

Merlin sighed. “But I do talk too much about—”

“No,” Arthur said. He caressed Merlin’s cheek with his forefinger, adding pressure so Merlin turned his attention away from Gwen to face Arthur. “You’re perfect, exactly as you are. I wouldn’t change your love for cats—not for anything. I wouldn’t change anything about you.”

Merlin felt his face grow warm under Arthur’s gaze. Arthur really did care about him, and it seemed that he cared about cats just as much. Arthur’s eyelids fluttered shut and he leaned toward Merlin, who was ever-mindful of Gwen, purring loudly in the protective circle of his arms. Arthur brushed his lips across Merlin’s. It was a little awkward for Merlin, who worried that Gwen would begin to squirm, but he managed to open his mouth enough to taste the wine on Arthur’s tongue and a hint of the dinner that they hadn’t quite finished downstairs.

Between Gwen’s purring and the sweep of Arthur’s tongue in his mouth, Merlin was overwhelmed. He closed his eyes and let go of his feelings for Arthur, showing him how he felt with his lips, his mouth, his tongue, until neither of them could breathe properly.

Arthur broke away first, with a furrowed brow. “I know this will sound dangerously paranoid, but I need to tell you,” he said cautiously. “On the train, I worried that Morgana was using you in order to get to Gwen.”

“Me?” Merlin asked.

“I’m so sorry to have doubted you,” Arthur said brushing the hair out of Merlin’s eyes. “I know she’ll stop at nothing to get Gwen from me and suddenly, there you were… and I was helpless to stop what I was feeling for you until—”

“Morgana wants Gwen?” Merlin asked, finally understanding what was at the crux of the sibling’s legal battle.

“Yes,” Arthur said, stroking Gwen’s fur. “She wants to take her from me and capitalize on everything I’ve done with her. Gwen was my father’s cat.”

“Oh?” Merlin said, surprised.

“I have no legal claim to her,” Arthur said. “My father hadn’t even owned Gwen for very long before he had his stroke. He had been lonely, living here by himself, and he thought a pet would be a good distraction.”

“She was your father’s cat, and _you_ put her on the Internet?” Merlin asked, understanding that Gwen had only become a sensation over the past two years—two years that passed while Uther was hospitalized because of his stroke.

“I was bored,” Arthur said, one hand on Gwen while he stroked Merlin’s cheek with the back of his knuckles. “I stayed here, hoping for my father to recover. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. I finished up with the projects I had in New York and soon enough I had all my video equipment here. One day, Gwen jumped into a box. The rest is history.”

“You’re the one who started her YouTube channel,” Merlin said, his eyes bright with understanding.

“And her FaceBook page and her Twitter account, and her Tumblr... she’s kept me very busy,” Arthur said, petting Gwen’s head.

“I can imagine. When you made the video of her chasing the baseball,” Merlin started. He bit his bottom lip. “You knew I’d see it.”

“I wanted to give you some kind of sign. I felt bad about what happened on the train,” Arthur said, looking away. “I hoped you would see it and maybe understand why I felt like I needed to leave.”

Merlin turned in Arthur’s arms, nearly dropping Gwen in his agitation. “Arthur, you really thought I was working with Morgana?”

“When you mentioned Gwen,” Arthur said. “Again and again.” Arthur shook his head as if he couldn’t verbalize how shocked he had been that night.

“No, Arthur, never,” Merlin said, remembering Gilli’s story about Lucky the cat who went on to fame as Morris from 9-Lives and how Gilli’s grandmother suffered. “I could never be like Morgana. I’ll only ever use my love for cats to do good.”

“I know that now. But when we were on the train, I nearly asked you to come back here with me to spend the night. But, there was Gwen to consider,” Arthur said. “I couldn’t risk it. I didn’t know whether to trust you. You were acting silly. You were bumbling. With all that cat talk, I thought maybe you had slipped and blown your cover. I thought Morgana had sent you to me.”

“Never,” Merlin said, sandwiching Gwen between them.

“I know. I spent last Saturday with Morgana,” Arthur said. “I asked her about you.”

“I’ve met her while delivering documents, that’s all. I think I’ve been to her place almost as many times as I’ve been here,” Merlin said.

“She insisted that she had never met you before you started to deliver to her. I wasn’t sure whether to believe her, but she is my sister… I can usually tell when she’s lying, especially when she’s trying to be sneaky about something. I began to consider that you may not have been working with her. That’s why I made the video with the baseball.”

“You wanted me to see it,” Merlin breathed.

Arthur closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to Merlin’s. “I missed you,” he said. “I couldn’t bear to think that I had hurt you. I knew I had to give you some kind of sign, something that would help you to figure out that Gwen and I were a team. I hoped you’d see it and think of me, and that you’d give me another chance.”

“I didn’t understand then, but I do now,” Merlin said.

“I called you Sunday morning, and every day after. I realized how my worst fears had taken over,” Arthur said. “I’m so sorry. Merlin, I swear that I’ll never let that happen again.”

“No, you did what you thought was right,” Merlin said, pressing a kiss to Gwen’s head. “You’re only looking out for Gwen’s best interests, Arthur, and I am too.”

“I’ve been so caught up in this legal battle with Morgana, I can’t think straight any more. She doesn’t care about Gwen, she just wants to use Gwen’s marketing power to make a fortune for herself.”

“We won’t let that happen,” Merlin said. “We can’t let Morgana turn Gwen into her servant for her own money-making scheme. We’ll stop her.”

Arthur hugged Merlin tight, until Gwen protested with a “Meow.”

“All right, I’ll put you down now,” Merlin told Gwen. “Just remember, you belong to Arthur. Maybe I can play with you and pet you sometimes, if Arthur will let me.”

Merlin gently set Gwen onto the floor, watching her four feet safely touch the plush carpeting.

When Merlin straightened up again, Arthur took his hand. “Of course I’ll let you,” he said, stepping closer to take up the space vacated by Gwen. Suddenly, Arthur smiled and looked toward the floor.

Merlin followed Arthur’s eyes to the carpeting where Gwen had flopped onto her side, rolling to expose her belly to her admirers.

“We’ll let you play here as often as you’d like,” Arthur said. “I hope you’ll become as important a part of my life as Gwen is.”

“I’d like that,” Merlin said, licking his lips. A shiver of anticipation tingled down his spine.

Arthur pulled him into a warm embrace and Merlin felt as if his heart would overflow. Today turned out to be better than he could ever have hoped for. Now, with Arthur’s assurance that last Friday’s sudden departure from the subway car was a terrible misunderstanding, a whole world of possibilities opened to him.

Merlin dipped his head and brushed his lips across Arthur’s jaw, tasting Arthur’s skin with a flick of his tongue. And then, because he could, he ran his fingers through Arthur’s golden hair and pressed soft kisses from beneath Arthur’s ear to the curve of his chin. He listened as Arthur moaned deeply, rubbing his smooth cheek across Merlin’s stubbly one when his hands slid over the curve of Merlin’s ass.

Merlin felt sexy and confident, unlike the sweaty bicycle messenger who choked on exhaust fumes as he pedaled through the grubby city streets. The tug of Arthur’s fingers tentatively fumbling with Merlin’s belt were a good indication that he was headed in the right direction.

Merlin’s cock swelled with desire as Arthur’s fingers brushed across the tented front of his shorts. Merlin cupped Arthur’s face with both hands, holding him steady as they kissed. After a moment, Merlin felt his belt come unbuckled. The two ends draped down on either side of his shorts, hanging by the belt-loops.

“Want you,” Arthur said, his eyes hooded and glazed with lust. He shoved his hands beneath the hem of Merlin’s shirt, few wisps of white cat hair from Gwen’s belly floating into the air.

Arthur’s lips devoured Merlin, nipping and licking at his mouth before delving in again. Merlin kissed back messily, sucking on Arthur’s tongue as it dipped into his mouth. Not for the first time, Merlin noticed that the room in which Gwen had been sequestered must have been Arthur’s bedroom. He recognized the walls and flooring from Gwen’s videos. The top of the dresser was littered with camera equipment and a tripod stood next to the closet door. Against the far wall, Arthur’s bed stood unmade, its resplendent crimson duvet hanging half off the bed and onto the floor.

Merlin felt Arthur’s cock pressing hard against his thigh. He hitched his hips forward to grind against it, seeking some relief from the surge of passion he felt thrumming through him. Arthur’s hands were strong and confident beneath Merlin’s shirt, tracing the muscles there and the soft hair that trailed low from his belly button to the waistband of his boxers.

Merlin groaned when Arthur rubbed the heel of his palm over his straining cock.

“You feel so good,” Arthur said, taking a breath while his lips were momentarily separated from Merlin’s.

Merlin closed his eyes and whined low as Arthur manhandled his cock through the fabric of his boxers. He tugged Arthur’s arm away and pulled him toward the bed, all the while avoiding Gwen who twined dangerously between their legs.

At the edge of the bed, a wrought iron monstrosity that must have belonged to Arthur’s late father, Merlin gently pushed Arthur so that he was sitting on the haphazardly-arranged duvet. He stepped into the space between Arthur’s knees, before claiming Arthur with another kiss.

“I want to see you,” Merlin whispered as his hands skated over Arthur’s back, his fingers bunching the fabric until he could grip the hem of Arthur’s polo.

Arthur shifted accommodatingly, lifting his arms, allowing Merlin to strip the shirt off him. Merlin dropped the shirt to the floor and gazed hungrily at Arthur’s naked chest.

Arthur was just as gorgeous as Merlin had imagined he would be. He touched his hands to Arthur’s shoulders and climbed onto the bed, straddling Arthur’s lap. When Arthur leaned back on his elbows, Merlin dipped his head to give Arthur’s nipple a soft bite, unable to resist its tantalizing power over him. He hummed happily as he felt it peak beneath the circles he traced over it with his tongue. The sensation of pleasure soon stopped Arthur’s hands from stroking Merlin’s flanks and made them rest on Merlin’s hips.

Merlin was so engrossed with what he was doing to Arthur’s nipple that he barely noticed when Arthur’s fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his shorts. He began to pant helplessly when Arthur slowly dragged the fabric downward, releasing Merlin’s fat cock from the confines of his clothing.

Merlin hesitantly drew his mouth away from Arthur’s chest, golden tan and kissed by the sun’s rays. He stood erect again and kicked off his sneakers, followed by his shorts. Then, he helped Arthur to divest him of his shirt, four hands tugging it in concert over his head and tossing it on the floor, where Gwen promptly made a bed of it, kneading her paws on the black fabric like a boss.

Merlin tried not to laugh, lest he get cock-blocked by the adorable cat. Instead, he concentrated on Arthur’s hands as they roved appreciatively over his naked chest, his thumbs swirling across his lightly haired nipples, making him keen quietly. Arthur leaned forward and brushed his lips across his stomach while his hands moved to his hips.

Carding his fingers through Arthur’s hair, Merlin was startled when he felt Arthur’s lips curl into a smile. He had undoubtedly noticed Gwen settling down for a nap on Merlin’s shirt.

Arthur looked up at Merlin and fought back a smirk. “I’ll get you your very own lint brush,” Arthur said with a grin.

Merlin choked out a laugh and pressed a kiss to the top of Arthur’s head. His cock leaked a thin line of anticipatory fluid along Arthur’s jaw, the shiny stream glistening in the lamplight. Merlin canted his hips, trying wordlessly to alert Arthur to his aching cock, but Arthur renewed his attention to Merlin’s stomach and flicked his tongue into Merlin’s belly button while his hands roamed over Merlin’s thighs.

“Merlin,” Arthur moaned, before swiping his tongue over the head of Merlin’s cock.

Merlin gave a little gasp of pleasure.

“Your thighs,” Arthur continued, breathing hard. “Let’s just say there’s no need to wonder if I’m gay when you see what your thighs are doing to me.”

“It’s from riding the bike all day. Do you like them?” Merlin asked.

 _“Like_ isn’t the word,” Arthur said. “The only way I’d like them any better is if they were wrapped around my waist while I fucked you senseless.”

Merlin could only shake his head and laugh with Arthur’s revelation. It seemed to be a sure thing with Merlin standing in front of him wearing nothing but his birthday suit.

Arthur wrapped his fingers around Merlin’s cock and sucked the head of it into his warm mouth. Merlin fought to keep himself from thrusting forward while Arthur looked up at him through his half-closed eyes. Merlin bit his lip as Arthur made a wet mess of his cock. Despite jerking off before leaving his apartment, Merlin knew he wouldn’t last long. Arthur’s shorts were the only thing that stood in the way of him getting the senseless fucking he was all but promised.

Merlin released a stuttered breath before drawing his cock away from Arthur’s mouth. He sank to his knees, ever-careful to avoid jostling Gwen from her sleeping place. “Let’s see what we can do about that.”

Arthur braced his hands on the edge of the bed while Merlin went to work on Arthur’s fly, the buttons testing his patience. When it became apparent that this wasn’t going to be a quick task, Merlin mouthed the fabric of Arthur’s fly, while his fingers struggled with the buttons.

Arthur’s frustration grew with every pass of Merlin’s tongue over the strained fabric. Finally, he nudged Merlin out of the way and worked the buttons himself. He toed off his shoes and yanked down his shorts while Merlin sat back on his heels. Freed from his clothing, Arthur pulled Merlin into his arms and fell backwards onto the bed.

Merlin relished the warmth of Arthur’s skin in the air-conditioned room. He drank Arthur in, peppering his skin with kisses everywhere his mouth could reach—his cock, his belly, his chest, his lips, as he crawled his way up to meet him.

“How is it that you are so adorable?” Arthur asked when Merlin stopping kissing so he could catch his breath. Arthur hitched a leg over Merlin’s hips, pulling him tighter with a flex of his muscles.

Merlin pressed closer to Arthur, their cocks aligned and slippery with clear slick.

As if on cue, Gwen leaped onto the bed. Merlin bit his lip and watched as Gwen made herself comfortable, padding around Arthur’s head. Instead of letting Gwen become a boner-killer, he rolled his hips into Arthur, searching for the perfect combination of friction and pressure.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Merlin anticipated that fucking with a cat in the bed was going to be the source of an endless stream of bawdy jokes. He knew he’d have to get used to the idea of having a feline audience for his and Arthur’s moments of passion. He supposed practice would make perfect, and he hoped he would have many such occasions to test his skill.

Arthur grinned knowingly at him, but Merlin would have none of it. He crushed his mouth to Arthur’s, closing his eyes to block Gwen from his view. They soon found a rhythm, Arthur’s hands squeezing and kneading the smooth globes of Merlin’s ass while Merlin rolled his hips. Merlin slid his fingers through Arthur’s hair as he rutted, uncontrollable now, on fire with the electricity of Arthur’s cock sliding against his own. He sucked Arthur’s tongue into his mouth, shuddered, and stilled as he felt the bloom of his orgasm soaking Arthur beneath him.

 _No, no, no!_ It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. He shimmied his way down Arthur’s body and took Arthur’s swollen cock into his mouth, the taste of his own release on his tongue. He sensed Arthur propping himself up on his elbows to watch. This only gave Merlin incentive to suck harder, hollowing his cheeks as he stroked Arthur’s cock with both hands, his elbows pressing with what had to be uncomfortable force into Arthur’s thighs. He let his thumbs slide down to stroke Arthur’s balls firmly.

Merlin glanced at Arthur’s face, contorted with the ache of pleasure, his eyes so dark with lust that Merlin could no longer discern that they were blue.

Just then, Arthur gave a warning cry and bit down on his lip as he flooded Merlin’s mouth with his come. While Arthur panted out Merlin’s name, Merlin closed his eyes and swallowed as much as he could, holding Arthur’s cock with one hand and stroking his thigh with the other. Merlin watched the quivering muscles of Arthur’s stomach, their tiny convulsions diminishing as Merlin licked Arthur’s cock clean, the combination of both of their tastes in his mouth. He felt Arthur’s head slump back into the pillow as if displacing the sleeping and uninterested cat was an afterthought.

Gwen meowed and leaped onto the floor.

 _“Now_ she decides to jump off the bed,” Merlin whispered with a grin.

Arthur gave a little laugh, his spent cock hanging loosely at the crease between his thigh and his balls. Merlin stayed where he was, brushing the scruff of his cheek along the sensitive skin of Arthur’s inner thighs, making Arthur moan softly through the aftershocks.

“You like that?” Merlin asked, his voice rough.

“Hmm…” Arthur hummed in reply.

“I’m going to have to stop shaving,” Merlin said, biting down gently on the firm flesh. He felt Gwen brushing up against his feet as they hung off the edge of the bed.

He gave Arthur’s thigh one more bite and slipped off the bed to follow Gwen into the adjoining bathroom. While she busied herself in the litterbox, Merlin ran the tap until the water was warm. He looked in the linen closet and found a washcloth which he soaked under the stream of water. He grinned at his reflection in the mirror, the splotchy flush of sex cascading from his neck to below his nipples. After taking a quick pee, he wiped himself off and returned to the bed with the freshened washcloth to clean the stickiness off Arthur.

He hummed as he worked, wiping off the mess they had both made. When he was almost satisfied that the skin of Arthur’s private parts was pink and unsoiled again, Arthur got hold of his arm and hauled him further up the bed.

Merlin collapsed onto his side and tugged the duvet over them. Arthur enthusiastically pressed a kiss to Merlin’s lips. His eyes were bright and he looked like a kid who woke up to find exactly what he wanted under the Christmas tree. Merlin nuzzled his cheek into the space between Arthur’s neck and the pillow. It had to be nearly midnight and the mere thought of the long day he had just finished sent Merlin to yawning.

Arthur crooked his neck and touched his lips to Merlin’s hair. Beneath the covers, Merlin slid his bare foot over Arthur’s calf. He was nearly asleep when he felt Arthur pull away for a moment as he turned off the bedside lamp. The warmth returned soon enough, when Arthur’s arms wrapped around Merlin and held him close while they slept.

=^.^= )

“Rise and shine,” Arthur’s voice called to Merlin in his dreams.

Merlin stretched his long limbs in the luxurious bed. It was much softer than the futon where he was accustomed to sleeping. He smiled at how cozy and cool the sheets felt, despite the humidity of summer that he knew lurked outside. His fingers smoothed Gwen’s fur, while she dozed beside him.

And what was that, he smelled?

Chocolate?

He licked his lips where the sweet morsel intruded on his dream.

It was so realistic, he nearly—

“Arthur?” Merlin asked, blinking his eyes open to the morning light that filtered through the drapes.

Arthur knelt on the bed beside him, holding a forkful of chocolate cake to Merlin’s mouth. “Go ahead, take a bite,” he said.

“Usually I just have oatmeal,” Merlin said, sleepy-voiced, taking a bite of the chocolate anyway.

“You need to keep up your strength,” Arthur said with a sly grin.

Merlin swallowed the cake. He shifted position so he was sitting, and only then did he realize that Arthur was naked.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Merlin asked, ogling Arthur’s perfect cock within licking distance.

“I haven’t been up for too long,” Arthur said, casting a glance toward Gwen. “Besides, I didn’t have the heart to wake you. You were snoring so loud you woke Gwen up.”

“Oh, sorry,” Merlin cringed. There was nothing more appalling than having a new lover inform him that he snored. Next time, he’d drink a bit less wine. Still, Gwen seemed no worse for wear. She lay on her back, her face upside down from Merlin’s perspective.

Arthur dug the fork into the cake and took another bite, licking his lips before offering Merlin another forkful.

“What time is it?” Merlin asked, glancing around for a bedside alarm clock.

Gwen blinked and chirruped at him before flipping over to stand up.

“Relax,” Arthur said, sidling up the bed so he sat next to Merlin. “It’s only eight. There’s plenty of time to do whatever you’d like today.”

Merlin ran a hand down his stubbled face and groaned. “We left such a mess downstairs. I’ll help you clean up, just as soon as I—”

“No need,” Arthur said snuggling closer to Merlin. “I’ve already updated Gwen’s FaceBook with what she ate for breakfast—”

“Oh, Gwen, I’m sorry I missed that,” Merlin said to the cat who arched her back and stretched.

“And I tweeted to her followers, and cleaned up the dishes from last night’s dinner—there’s plenty of leftovers, by the way. Oh, and I made dessert.”

“Dessert, even,” Merlin said fondly, his cock showing signs of interest, seeing he was naked and in bed with Arthur. “You’re amazing.”

Arthur scooped another bite of cake onto the fork and offered it to Merlin. “Nothing to it, really. It’s one of those lava cakes,” he said. “You just pop it into the microwave for a minute and it cooks up all gooey.”

“Delicious,” Merlin said, wiping the corner of his mouth with his finger.

“I didn’t have time to plan a proper dessert for last night, but I had this on hand,” Arthur said, setting the plate on the bedside table.

“I think the kind of dessert we had last night was better than anything you could bake,” Merlin said coyly, planting a kiss on Arthur’s bare hip.

“Me too,” Arthur said, dropping the fork onto the empty plate. “I propose that we spend the rest of the day in bed.”

Arthur snuck a hand beneath the covers and slowly slid it over Merlin’s morning erection.

Merlin moaned and pulled Arthur on top of him, trapping him with his legs wrapped around his waist.

“Nrgh,” Merlin said when Arthur kissed him on the mouth. “No fair, you already got cleaned up. I can taste your toothpaste.”

“Oh,” Arthur said, licking the end of Merlin’s nose. “I brought your bag up, in case you wanted to freshen up. That’s a very interesting DVD you brought to share with me.”

Merlin blushed fifty shades of red. How was he to have known that while he had the DVD of Gwen’s antics, Arthur had the real thing? Gwen in the flesh… err… fur. “You looked in my bag?” Merlin asked in disbelief.

“Sorry, I was nosy,” Arthur giggled unapologetically.

“So disrespectful,” Merlin said, tightening his hold around Arthur’s waist, Arthur’s cock leaking a clear droplet as it hung down to touch Merlin’s.

“Oww, you’re going to crush me,” Arthur yelped. “You’re right. It was very disrespectful of me.”

“See to it that it doesn’t happen again,” Merlin said, releasing his grip.

“Can you ever forgive me?” Arthur asked, kissing his way down Merlin’s chest. “I’m so looking forward to using the condoms you brought.”

“You are insufferable,” Merlin laughed. “It’s one thing to peek in my bag, but another to make fun of its contents.”

“I’m sorry, I swear I’ll make it up to you,” Arthur said.

“You do a lot of apologizing, don’t you—” Merlin’s thoughts were cut off when Arthur sucked his nipple into his mouth. A jolt of voltaic energy sizzled through Merlin’s body from his nipple to his cock. His legs wrapped around Arthur’s waist again while he tried to catch his breath.

“You were saying?” Arthur asked, shifting onto his knees and taking Merlin’s cock in hand.

“Arthur…” Merlin panted.

Arthur only smiled and wrapped his hand around both their cocks, stroking them to a shuddering completion.

After a ridiculous amount of cuddling, the likes of which Merlin had not experienced in a very long while, they hit the shower and wandered downstairs for something more nutritious than lava cake.

“I’m not much help with the cooking,” Merlin said. “But I insist that I help you to clean up. I don’t want to overstay my welcome. Isn’t that right, Gwen?”

Gwen was perched on the arm of the butter-soft leather sofa in Arthur’s living room. Since she had furred up Merlin’s black shirt, Arthur had kindly lent him one of his own. The crimson color did nothing for Merlin’s appearance, but it felt nice to be wearing something that smelled of Arthur’s laundry soap and a little bit like Arthur himself.

Arthur shooed Merlin out of the kitchen after announcing that he would be making omelets. He invited Merlin to amuse himself with more of the CD collection. Merlin browsed through the CDs. My Morning Jacket… that sounded like something cheery for breakfast time. He put the CD into the player, sent a quick text to Gwaine to let him know he was alive, and perused the magazines that were strewn across the coffee table.

GQ, Sports Illustrated, Bay Windows, an L.L. Bean and an Abercrombie catalogue rounded out the pile. Merlin flipped through Bay Windows. His subscription had ended when Cenred left and he never bothered to renew it. He wondered if there was anything good playing over at Loew’s. Would Arthur like to see an action flick, or would he prefer something more dramatic? He turned to the movie section and scanned the features.

“Is wheat toast okay?” Arthur called from the kitchen.

“What?” Merlin could barely hear Arthur. He tossed the magazine on the coffee table and went to the stereo to turn down the volume.

“White or wheat? Arthur asked again, popping his head out of the kitchen.

“Wheat’s good,” Merlin replied.

“Okay, it’ll be ready in a couple minutes,” Arthur said.

“Great,” Merlin said. “Are you sure I can’t do anything to help?”

“I’ve got it all under control,” Arthur said.

Merlin grinned. He could get used to having a boyfriend who was as talented in bed as he was in the kitchen.

When Merlin turned back to the sofa, he saw that Gwen had jumped to the coffee table. Of course, she was sitting on the exact place in the magazine where Merlin had been reading.

“You silly girl,” Merlin said, giving Gwen a scratch on the head.

“What did she do?” asked Arthur who was busily setting the table for breakfast.

Merlin laughed. “She sat her ass down right where I was reading.”

Gwen obliviously licked her front paw clean. Arthur walked over and wrapped his arms around Merlin from behind.

“Well, you know what they say about cats and how intelligent they are,” Arthur said.

“What’s that?” Merlin asked, reaching up to squeeze Arthur’s hand.

“They’re so intelligent, that they can read through their bums,” Arthur said confidently.

Merlin burst out laughing.

In the kitchen, the bell sounded from the toaster.

“Breakfast is ready,” Arthur said giving Merlin a squeeze before letting go.

Merlin went to the dining room and poured the orange juice while Arthur carried the plates to the table. It turned out that Arthur really was a good cook. While Merlin usually settled for a Pop-Tart, or oatmeal if he was feeling really health-conscious, Arthur made them each a fluffy omelet stuffed with cheese and diced tomato.

Merlin had taken a few bites of his omelet, when Gwen leaped gracefully onto the table.

Merlin looked at Arthur.

“Umm…” Arthur said.

Merlin squinted his eyes closed and tried not to laugh. “Let me guess,” he said. “You actually let your cat sit on the table while you eat?”

“Hey, I’m usually alone here,” Arthur said. “I never saw the need to displace her… umm… until now.”

“No,” Merlin said, reaching across the table to caress Arthur’s hand. “I do the same thing when I’m home. My mother has a fit because I don’t make Aithusa get off the table when I’m eating.”

Arthur smiled and shook his head.

“It’s something only a real cat lover would do,” Merlin said.

“I suppose,” Arthur said. And then he turned to Gwen and added, “You truly know how to embarrass me, young lady. How about if I get you a box? That’ll keep you out of our way for a few minutes.”

Arthur got up from the table and went to a cupboard in the kitchen. Gwen knew something was up. She jumped off the table and went into the kitchen to look for Arthur.

“Here you go,” Arthur said.

He slid a box across the smooth wooden floor of the living room. Gwen romped after it, leaping inside.

“That’ll keep her busy,” he said, returning to his chair. “Eat up. When we’re done, I’ll let you look at her kitten pictures.”

Merlin could barely focus on eating. It was absolutely surreal to him that he was having a breakfast that was prepared by his gorgeous lover, while Gwen—THE Gwen of Internet fame, the cutest cat in the world—played with a box nearby.

They finished eating and Merlin began to clear the table. Arthur was a prat and insisted on helping, even though that wasn’t part of their deal.

“I do know how to load a dishwasher,” Merlin said.

“I don’t doubt your abilities at operating machinery,” Arthur said, rinsing another plate. “After all, you ride that bicycle all over town. If you can do something that dangerous, surely you can add soap and press the _on_ button.”

Merlin flicked the water from the faucet so it splashed Arthur. Unfortunately, Gwen was underfoot. At the first drop of water, she scampered along the floor, her nails scritching the tile as she struggled to get enough purchase to run out of the room.

“Oh, no,” Merlin said. “Now I’ve pissed your cat off.”

“Don’t feel badly about it,” Arthur said. “I piss her off at least a dozen times a day and she loves me just the same.”

When they were finished with the dishes, Arthur took Merlin’s hand and led him to the living room.

“I wonder where Gwen has run off to,” Merlin said.

“She’ll be back. She’s probably just hiding under the bed,” Arthur said. He slumped down onto the sofa and pulled Merlin onto his lap.

Merlin went willingly, and twined his arms around Arthur’s neck. He was pretty sure that he wasn’t heavy enough to give Arthur a cramp by sitting on him. No, Arthur’s thighs were sturdy in their own right, despite not riding a bike every day. Merlin shifted so he was more comfortable.

“So,” Merlin said, “got any plans for the rest of the morning?”

Arthur nosed his way beneath the dark locks that curled behind Merlin’s ear. “That’s up to you,” Arthur said. “I promised you a look at Gwen’s kitten pictures… unless you have a better idea.” He licked a few tentative times at Merlin’s neck, then he sucked at Merlin’s soft fleshy earlobe, which made Merlin squirm in a fit of laughter.

Merlin thought his squirming would get him safely out of the way, but instead it only served to expose the long pale swath of his neck to Arthur’s relentless tongue. He felt Arthur’s cock stiffening beneath him.

“Mmmm…” Merlin moaned, smitten by Arthur and his playful ways. “Whatever you’re going to do, you’d better get on with it because I can’t stay all day.”

“No?” Arthur asked. “Why not? Some other cat owner to seduce?”

“Something like that,” Merlin said. “I promised to volunteer at the MSPCA later today. I hope Gwen won’t mind if I give some attention to cats less fortunate than her.”

“I’m sure Gwen appreciates your kindness to _her people_ ,” Arthur said. “Did you know that Gwen came from the MSPCA?”

Suddenly, it sounded like a herd of elephants were stampeding across the bedroom on the upper level. Gwen bounded down the stairs and leaped onto the sofa.

“There you are,” Arthur said, petting Gwen’s head. “Merlin was getting worried about you.”

Apparently, all had been forgiven after the splashing incident, because Gwen padded across the sofa and stepped onto Merlin’s lap.

“She likes you again,” Arthur said, petting Merlin’s hair with one hand and Gwen with the other.

“Do you like treating me like a cat, too?” Merlin asked, ducking his head out of the way of Arthur’s hand.

“Why not?” asked Arthur. “I like to try to make you purr.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and tried not to move while Gwen settled onto his lap. Gwen gingerly kneaded her paws onto Merlin’s chest, rubbing her face against his chin.

“She’s marking you as her territory,” Arthur said, his voice husky in Merlin’s ear.

Merlin beamed.

“I hope she knows that she’s making me very jealous,” Arthur said. “Such audacity… trying to claim you as her own.”

“Oh really?” Merlin asked. “And what are you going to do about it?”

“I need to find a way to mark you for myself,” Arthur said, sucking a Merlin’s neck hard enough to raise a bruise to Merlin’s skin.

Merlin wanted to flip over and let Arthur fuck him right into the sofa. He was pretty sure Arthur was thinking the same thing since his cock had grown rock-hard as it poked into Merlin’s backside. Suddenly a chime sounded, disturbing Merlin’s thoughts and making Gwen leap off Merlin’s belly.

“It’s the front desk,” Arthur said, catching his breath. “I should find out what they want.”

“Go ahead,” Merlin panted. He climbed out of Arthur’s lap and planted his feet on the floor.

Arthur went to the kitchen and spoke over the intercom with the front desk. Merlin couldn’t hear what was being said, but he used the opportunity to will his erection down, just in case Arthur had a visitor.

“It’s my uncle, Agravaine,” Arthur said, returning to Merlin. “He said he needed to come up for a minute.”

Merlin smoothed his hands down his front, taking any wrinkles out of the shirt he borrowed from Arthur.

“He says he was in the neighborhood and he has something for me,” Arthur said, adjusting himself.

“Are you _out_ to him?” Merlin asked, rubbing the hickey on his neck, feeling self-conscious.

Arthur put his arms around Merlin, and leaned close so that their foreheads touched. “I’m okay with who I am,” Arthur said. “And I know you are, too. We’ll just play it by ear, okay?”

“Okay,” Merlin said. “I just wouldn’t want to create a conflict between you and your family.”

“I’m not worried,” Arthur said. “Agravaine is a good guy.”

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

Arthur pressed a kiss to Merlin’s forehead and answered the door.

“Arthur, good to see you,” Agravaine said, stepping into the apartment. Merlin thought he looked nothing like Arthur. He was dark-haired and round-faced, nothing like the golden-haired Arthur with his fine jawline and sculptured nose.

“You too, Uncle,” Arthur said, embracing the man. “Uncle, this is my friend, Merlin.”

Merlin waved from the living room, but Agravaine strode into the room and shook Merlin’s hand briskly.

“Nice to meet you, Merlin. Well, I have these stock certificates to drop off,” Agravaine said, waving a manila envelope at Arthur. “And it just so happens that I have something else that might interest you both.”

“What’s that?” Arthur asked, leaning against the door frame.

Merlin watched while Agravaine pulled two tickets from his pocket.

“Sox tickets?” Arthur asked, taking them out of Agravaine’s hand. He looked dumbfounded. “Against the Rays, tomorrow?”

“I can’t use them and I didn’t want to give them to just anyone,” Agravaine said. “Your sister mentioned that you were a fan.”

“I’m starting to like the looks of the team this year. In fact, we went to a game just last weekend,” Arthur said, nodding at Merlin.

“Yeah, it was a lot of fun,” Merlin said, mostly to make small talk.

“Well, if you’re not doing anything tomorrow afternoon, you’re welcome to them,” Agravaine said.

“It sounds good to me. How about you?” Arthur asked, glancing at Merlin.

“I don’t have any plans,” Merlin said.

“Well, thanks a lot,” Arthur said to his uncle. “We’ll be thinking of you when we’re rooting for the team and chowing down junk food.”

“I wish I could have used them myself,” Agravaine said. “Perhaps another time. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other errands to run today.”

Arthur saw Agravaine to the door, and closed it behind him.

“What luck,” Arthur said, a big grin on his face. “People try for months to get Sox tickets and they just fall into my lap.”

“It’s like magic,” Merlin said, slipping his arms around Arthur’s waist.

“It is,” Arthur said, kissing Merlin on the lips. Arthur steered Merlin backwards, stumbling over his feet as they moved toward the sofa.

“Now, where were we?” Merlin asked, falling back onto the cool leather. He stretched out long and beckoned Arthur into his open arms.

Arthur dove on top of him and settled between Merlin’s legs. He reached his hands underneath the borrowed shirt and traced his fingers over Merlin’s treasure trail. “I believe I was going to see how many times I could make you come before you had to leave for your homeless cat duties,” Arthur said.

And he set out to accomplish just that.

=^.^= )

“Hey, Merlin, I’m so glad you came,” Gilli said, stepping out from behind the counter at the MSPCA.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” Merlin said, rubbing his hands together, trying to look excited.

“Well, you’re crazy if you expect me to believe you’ve anticipated scooping litterboxes for an entire week,” Gilli said, smacking him on the arm. “Even _I_ don’t love my job that much.”

“Oh, sure you do,” Merlin said. “You’ve got the best job in the world.”

“If you say so,” Gilli said. “Come on, I’ll get you a volunteer badge and show you what needs to be done.”

Merlin followed Gilli into the utility area and tried to pay attention to his instructions. He was still riding high from spending the previous night and half the day with Arthur. He didn’t have the heart to tell Gilli about his new boyfriend, or that he woke up this morning with Gwen, THE Gwen, in bed next to him. He hoped the lip balm he had applied would calm the rough red of his kiss-chapped lips. And he hoped Gilli wouldn’t notice the scratches on his arms from rough-housing with Gwen or the hickey that Arthur had left on his neck.

“The first thing you’ll want to do is make the rounds of all the cat adoption room and scoop the boxes,” Gilli said. He showed Merlin a tub full of soapy water. “The litter scoopers are in here, soaking in disinfectant. Put on a pair of rubber gloves and fish one out. Rinse it off and give it a shake, then you’re ready to go digging for buried treasure.”

“Sounds like fun,” Merlin said.

“Glad to see you’re in a good mood today,” Gilli said as they entered the first room of cats.

Merlin couldn’t contain his enthusiasm for long. “It was a good weekend,” he said, as he sifted through the sandy litter and dropped the cat waste into the five gallon bucket that Gilli carried.

“Yeah, it was a good one for me too,” Gilli said, his smile brighter than Merlin had ever remembered seeing it.

“Yeah?” Merlin asked.

“Met a girl,” Gilli said, raising his eyebrows.

“Well, good for you,” Merlin said. He was a little bothered by his gaydar malfunction, but he was happy for Gilli. The guy seemed depressed most of the time and a new girlfriend might be just the thing he needed to perk him up.

“It’s someone who works at your place,” Gilli nodded.

“Freya?” Merlin choked, thinking of the only female employee of Kilgharrah Kourier.

“That’s the one,” Gilli said dreamily. “Met her out clubbing last night and we really hit it off. I’m going back to her place again for dinner tonight.”

 _”Back,_ to her place _again?_ You sly dog! Er… no pun intended,” Merlin said to the cats who roamed around them. It was inconceivable to him that Freya’s snark would go over well with sensitive Gilli, but sometimes opposites attracted.

“Yeah, she spoke highly of you, if you must know,” Gilli said. “Told me all about her scheme to get you together with a guy you liked.”

Merlin shook his head. “Enjoy tonight with Freya while you can, friend, because I’m going to kill her when I see her on Monday morning.”

“She means well,” Gilli said with a grin. “Besides, her plan must have worked, right? You’re together now?”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m still going to kill her,” Merlin said. He was surprised that Freya had outed him to Gilli, but he supposed it was a good indication that she was serious about him. Freya wasn’t known for sinking her claws so deeply into the first random pick-up she came across in a bar.

They moved on to the next cat room, where more felines frolicked on the cat furniture.

“He has a cat,” Merlin said, careful to avoid stepping on an orange stray who wove between his ankles.

“That’s perfect! Freya didn’t tell me that,” Gilli said excitedly, while Merlin dug through a litterbox for cat poop.

“Freya doesn’t know _everything_ ,” Merlin said, dropping his quarry into the bucket. “She does like cats, though. You two will get along fine.”

They headed back to the utility room. Gilli sealed the bucket and showed Merlin how to disinfect the litter scooper.

“What kind of cat does he have?” Gilli asked.

Merlin rolled his eyes. He really didn’t know whether he should be sharing, with Gilli of all people, the fact that he was falling in love with Gwen’s owner.

“She’s a big fat tabby,” Merlin said. “With white.”

“Sounds cute,” Gilli said. “She must look like Gwen.”

“Yeah,” Merlin said. “In fact, she looks exactly like Gwen.”

=^.^= )

Sunday afternoon’s game had barely made it into the third inning when the skies opened up. The ground crew scurried to cover the field, while the players and fans alike ran for cover as the rain hailed down from the unexpected thunderstorm. At the top of the stands, a bottleneck of fans had formed, rushing to get beneath the shelter of the concession area. Merlin bided his time climbing the concrete steps, fat raindrops matting his hair and soaking his shirt.

Don and Jerry did their best in the broadcast booth to assure the crowd that play would resume after a brief rain delay, but Merlin knew as well as anyone that it could be hours before the Sox took the field again.

“Hey,” Arthur whispered into Merlin’s ear as he followed him up the stairs. “We don’t have to wait around if you don’t want to.” The cool droplets trickled from his rain-darkened hair, splashing Merlin’s neck.

“They’re your tickets,” Merlin said, turning his head so Arthur could hear him over the groans of the slow-moving crowd and the raindrops that pelted the empty seats. “I don’t want to make you miss the rest of the game. You wanted to see it—you like Tampa.”

“You’re my guest,” Arthur said, his hands warm on Merlin’s waist. “It’s your call. We can stay until the rain stops, or maybe we can find something else to do.”

Merlin glanced around nervously. He hoped that no one else in the stadium could detect the subtle grind of Arthur’s erect cock nudging his backside as they climbed the stairs.

“I’ve seen baseball games before,” Merlin said, raising his eyebrows.

Ten minutes later they tumbled into the back seat of a taxi on Brookline Avenue.

“Downtown Crossing,” Arthur told the driver.

“Arthur?” Merlin asked. They hadn’t discussed whose apartment would be the destination for the night, and Merlin was a little shocked that Arthur would want to see his tiny studio apartment when the posh Devonshire had every amenity he could imagine. “What are you thinking?”

“Tell me what street you live on,” Arthur said.

“No, really,” Merlin said. He clasped Arthur’s hand. “Let’s go back to The Devonshire. It’s so much nicer than mine.”

“Come on, Merlin,” Arthur said. “I want you to show me where you live.”

“What about Gwen?” Merlin whispered, as if saying her name was the biggest secret he’d ever had to keep. He hated the thought of the taxi driver overhearing him.

“I fed her before we left,” Arthur said, squeezing Merlin’s hand. “She’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Merlin asked. He calmed himself, remembering that he had nothing to hide, unlike Arthur and his secret cat when Merlin had first been to his apartment. He supposed he could entertain Arthur at his small place.

“Take me home,” Arthur said, letting his head rest on Merlin’s shoulder.

“Eight-hundred Otis Street,” Merlin announced to the taxi driver.

They ran through the rain and climbed the stairs to Merlin’s apartment, laughing all the way. Merlin’s heat-damp skin made his shirt cling to his torso, but that didn’t stop Arthur’s fingers from pinching and tugging their way under the fabric to pet the hot flesh.

Merlin got the key into the lock on the third try.

Quickly, Merlin kicked off his sneakers and turned on the air conditioner, grateful that the room hadn’t yet heated up since he left it only a few hours earlier. He tugged Arthur toward the futon, stripping off his own rain-soaked shirt along the way. Goosebumps raised on his clammy skin when the cool air struck him.

Arthur barely glanced around at the apartment. His gaze fixed on Merlin as he peeled off his shirt so they were both bare-chested.

Arthur stepped forward until their chests collided. Merlin put his hands around Arthur’s waist, then stroked firmly across Arthur’s back as he lowered him onto the futon. He helped Arthur to remove his shoes, each one dropping with a soft thud onto the carpeted floor. Merlin pushed Arthur onto his back and kissed along the soft swirls of hair that led from Arthur’s waistband to his navel. His fingers tried to make sense of Arthur’s fly, a top button and a zipper this time. Success came easily and Merlin felt Arthur gently pull on his hair, urging him to slide farther up the futon.

Merlin obliged and pressed open-mouthed kisses to Arthur’s throat, one hand slipping into the open fly of Arthur’s shorts. Arthur gasped when Merlin rubbed his thumb over the tip of his cock, the slippery droplets easing out of him with Merlin’s every kiss.

Merlin let his teeth graze Arthur’s earlobe. He followed his teeth with a lick of his tongue and then whispered into Arthur’s ear, “Can I fuck you?”

Arthur wordlessly moaned and arched his back so he drove his hard cock into Merlin’s palm. He rolled onto his side, took Merlin’s face between both of his hands and crushed their mouths together, saliva mingling with each thrust of his tongue.

Merlin took that as a _yes._

When he next caught his breath, Merlin scrambled across the futon and fished through an end table drawer for condoms and lube. He could hear the rustle of clothing behind him as Arthur stripped off his shorts and boxers, flopping naked onto his back where Merlin had left him.

Merlin got to his feet and stood at the end of the futon. He licked his lips, his eyes focused on Arthur. With the condoms and lube in one hand, he flicked open the button to his shorts with the thumb of his other and inched his zipper downward.

Merlin knew Arthur liked what he saw. He lay there, languidly stroking his cock, waiting for Merlin to finish his impromptu striptease.

Merlin shoved his shorts down and stepped out of them, his cock heavy, jutting out from its nest of dark hair. He then climbed back on the futon and arranged Arthur’s legs so he could settle between them. Arthur looked wrecked, his hair matted and plastered awkwardly to his forehead, his eyes half open, and lips kissed raw.

Merlin rested his palm on Arthur’s thigh.

The rain came down in torrents, streaking the window so it became opaque, sheltering them from the view of the city outside.

Arthur released his hold on his cock and reached for Merlin’s hand. His fingers brushed across Merlin’s knuckles.

“Just take it slow,” Arthur said. “It’s been a while.”

Merlin nodded and sunk his teeth into his lower lip. It had been a while for him too, and he sensed that Arthur knew it. He began stroking Arthur’s thigh reassuringly, smoothing and quieting the twitch of muscles that lurched in the electric current that sparked between them. With his other hand, Merlin flipped the cap of the lube open. Arthur watched as he squeezed the lube onto two of his slender fingers.

Merlin cupped Arthur’s balls in his hand, gently lifting them out of his way. Arthur’s cock clearly enjoyed the attention, leaking a strand of clear slick onto Arthur’s belly.

“Well, that’s a shame isn’t it?” Merlin whispered, tracing a firm circle around Arthur’s tightly furled opening. “Gorgeous creature that you are.”

Arthur’s breath hitched as Merlin pressed in and waited.

“You deserve to have someone make love to you every day,” Merlin said, quiet.

When Arthur breathed again, Merlin’s fingers moved deftly, sliding in and out, the squelch of the lube blending with the sound of the rain, pitter-pattering atop the air conditioner. Arthur shifted his legs so they nearly wrapped around Merlin’s waist. Merlin built up to a lazy trance-like rhythm that matched Arthur’s breath, catching the rim as the intensity grew, adding more fingers when he could.

Arthur was tight. Merlin lost himself in the motion of his fingers, willing himself to be patient as he imagined sinking into the impossible heat that surrounded him. Merlin wanted to ask Arthur if he was ready, but Arthur suddenly moaned and urgently gripped the base of his cock to stop himself from coming. Merlin stilled his fingers and let them glide out of Arthur.

Merlin reached for a condom and tore the package open with his teeth. Arthur looked on while Merlin gave himself a few quick strokes before rolling the condom onto his cock. Merlin shifted his knees so his sheathed cock head touched Arthur’s glistening entrance. Without any warning, Arthur tightened the hold of his legs, urging Merlin to move forward. Merlin’s mouth hung open. He gripped Arthur’s thighs and slowly pressed into Arthur.

Merlin pinched his eyes shut tight, trying to control the urge to thrust, thrust, thrust into Arthur’s perfect ass. He inched forward and back, letting the slow ache build inside him again, growing hot in his loins until finally he could no longer ignore it. This was going to be over quickly.

Arthur huffed out a breath. He reached for Merlin’s hands and pulled Merlin on top of him, kissing him hard. He tangled his fingers in Merlin’s hair, urging him closer. The grip of Arthur’s legs eased and tightened with Merlin’s thrusts, Arthur’s cock trapped between them.

Merlin kissed Arthur more slowly than before, just the slightest pressure of lips and tongue. He wanted it to last. He tried to keep things slow, one hand anchored to the futon near Arthur’s shoulder, while his other hand mapped Arthur’s chest.

When Arthur stopped writhing and arched into him with a groan, Merlin knew he couldn't stop the rush of his own orgasm from erupting. His balls drew up tight and he let the wave of passion roll over him just as he felt Arthur lose control. He collapsed onto Arthur, who took his time untangling his legs from where they gripped Merlin.

A flash of lightning illuminated the room and before the crash of thunder echoed, Merlin knew how he wanted to spend the rest of the night.

=^.^= )

“Shit, it’s my mother,” Merlin said, looking at the display on his phone. He refilled Arthur’s coffee mug and returned the pot to the burner.

“You’re not going to answer it?” Arthur asked, looking up from his toast and jam.

“No. But she’s probably worried sick since I didn’t call her over the weekend. I’ll call her back,” Merlin said, fixing to tap the key.

Arthur reached across the table and grabbed Merlin’s wrist. “Wait,” he said.

Merlin’s eyes flickered toward Arthur. “Wait for what?” He walked around the table and stroked Arthur’s cheek. “You can’t be ready to go again. As it is, I’m going to have to get Mass General to give me intravenous fluids to replace what you sucked out of me.”

Arthur grinned. “No, not that,” he said, pulling Merlin onto his lap, making him yelp. “Although I could be ready if you give me a minute.”

“Some of us have to go to work this morning,” Merlin said, wrapping his arms around Arthur’s neck. “What then?”

Arthur spoke as he kissed along Merlin’s jawline. “You might want to tell her that you’d like to bring a date to her wedding.”

“Is that so?” Merlin asked. “Do I know anyone who would want to attend such an affair?”

“I think you do,” Arthur said, his tongue darting out to lick Merlin’s earlobe. “Someone with a brilliant smile, a perfect physique, shiny hair —”

“Gwaine?” Merlin asked.

Arthur poked Merlin in the ribs, making his squirm with laughter.

“Guess again,” Arthur said.

“Umm…” Merlin hummed. He let his fingers play over Arthur’s shoulders, the fabric stretched tight over his muscled arms. “Someone who I was kind enough to let borrow a shirt from me this morning so he doesn’t have to do a walk of shame back to The Devonshire wearing his wrinkled shirt from last night?”

“That’s the one,” Arthur said.

“I see,” Merlin said. He slid his palm down Arthur’s arm and took his hand. He brought Arthur’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Would you do me the honor of being my guest at my mother’s wedding?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Arthur said.

Ten minutes later, Merlin kissed Arthur goodbye. He had two minutes to call his mother and tell her he had a date for the wedding. He sealed the Velcro of his bike shoes while he gave her the good news. She was delighted and wanted to know all the details, but Merlin had no time to spare. He assured her they’d talk more soon. With a glance at the time before he shoved his phone into his pocket, he ran down the stairs so he could meet Gwaine at Starbucks for their walk to work. He made it with twenty seconds to spare.

“Looking good this morning, Emrys,” Gwaine said, punching Merlin’s fist. “Not too sore to walk to work, I see?”

“I think I’ll make it… barely,” Merlin laughed, shaking his head as they waited in line to order their coffees. “But enough about my sex life—did you ever figure out any more from watching Gwen videos at my place?”

Merlin could barely contain his enthusiasm. He knew he’d never be able to keep Gwen a secret from Gwaine. In fact, he doubted he’d make it two blocks past Starbucks before he spilled the beans.

“No, I watched a few more videos and then I locked up for the night,” Gwaine said.

Gwaine ordered his usual concoction with more sugar and additives than coffee itself, but for the first time in months he ordered hot coffee instead of iced. The rain had cooled the city air and the call of blue jays reminded Merlin that it would soon be fall.

“Well,” Merlin said when they got outside. “What would you say if I told you that I knew not only what city Gwen lived in, but I also knew her owner?”

“Wait,” Gwaine said, blowing on his coffee. “You know her owner?”

“Intimately,” Merlin added with a grin.

Gwaine spun around on the sidewalk. “No fucking way!” he shouted.

“You are sworn to secrecy, Gwaine,” Merlin said, eyeing the crowd of pedestrians.

“Of course. I pinkie swear it!” Gwaine said, holding out his pinkie for Merlin to lock it with his.

“I got to meet her and everything,” Merlin said, the relief of being able to tell Gwaine.

“I don’t know what to say,” Gwaine said. “That’s absolutely incredible.”

“Yeah, it is,” Merlin said. “The scary thing is that Arthur’s sister is trying to claim Gwen for her own. Gwen was Arthur’s father’s cat before he died.”

“Arthur’s father made those YouTube videos?” Gwaine asked.

“No, no, Arthur made those while he visited his dad when he was recovering from his stroke. Unfortunately, he didn’t recover, so now Arthur and his sister are fighting over his estate. You’ve met Morgana?”

“That’s right,” Gwaine said. “I met Morgana when I covered for you last week. She is rather scary.”

“She’s trying to get Gwen so she can capitalize on Gwen’s marketing power, even though Arthur did all the work to make her as popular as she is today.”

“That sucks,” Gwaine said as they entered the doors of Kilgharrah Kourier.

“Hey Freya,” Merlin said. “I heard you had a nice weekend.”

“I did,” Freya said, turning to grab the messenger bags for Merlin and Gwaine.

“How would you know that?” Gwaine asked Merlin. “Obviously you people are leaving me out of the loop.”

Just then, Merlin’s cellphone rang. He took it out of his pocket. With one look at the display, his heart began to beat faster.

“Hey, Arthur,” Merlin said, answering the call.

“Merlin,” Arthur’s voice cracked. “It’s Gwen. She’s been taken.”

=^.^= )


	7. Chapter 7

“Arthur, no,” Merlin said, gripping the edge of Freya’s desk.

Arthur’s voice was shaky. “I came home, and she was gone. Her carrier is gone, too. There’s no note, no message. I just thought you should know,” Arthur said.

“Arthur,” Merlin said. His chest was tight. He couldn’t think fast enough. “Stay there. I’m… I’m on my way. I’ll be right there.”

“What’s wrong?” Gwaine asked, a look of confusion on his face as he listened to Merlin’s end of the conversation.

Merlin held a silencing hand up to Gwaine, and then raised a single finger to keep his attention.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, but he only let out a heavy sigh.

“I’ll be there in five minutes,” Merlin said, ending the call. He wasn’t going to let Arthur deal with this alone.

“What’s going on?” Gwaine asked.

“I’m not sure,” Merlin said, lowering his voice to a whisper. “But it appears _the cat_ has been stolen.”

“Stolen?” Gwaine asked.

“Freya, I can’t make any deliveries right now,” Merlin said. “Something has come up. It’s an emergency.”

“I can make your deliveries if you need me to,” Gwaine said.

“That’s what I was hoping for,” Merlin said, patting Gwaine’s arm. 

“Let me see what I have,” Merlin said. He shuffled through his messenger bag and pulled out the first half-dozen deliveries for the day.

Freya threw her hands in the air. “Why do I even bother?” she asked.

Merlin was certain that Freya was going to pound her head on her desk next, but he didn’t stick around to find out. He handed Gwaine the envelopes and headed for the garage, shouting to Leon that he needed his bike right away.

“What’s the hurry,” Leon asked. “It’s Monday morning. Our clients expect us to be late on Mondays.”

“Arthur needs me,” Merlin said, unable to keep his thoughts to himself. He pulled on his biking gloves and fastened the clip on his helmet.

“This is getting serious,” Leon said with a wink. “I hope it works out as well as last time.”

“Me too,” Merlin said. He hopped on his bike and pedaled out the door.

Rush hour traffic lined Tremont Street, the green lights changing to red before more than a few cars made it through each intersection. Merlin stood up on his pedals and pumped hard, flying past the banks and offices on State Street. A wave of guilt washed over him as he approached The Devonshire. If only he had insisted they stay at Arthur’s apartment last night, maybe Gwen would still be safe. It was his fault that Gwen had been taken. This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t agreed to bring Arthur back to his apartment.

Merlin would never forgive himself if Arthur didn’t get Gwen back.

He skidded onto the sidewalk and lashed his bike to the light pole. Merlin headed straight for the elevators, announcing himself to the security desk as he crossed the lobby. As he rode the elevator to Arthur’s floor, he wondered if Gwen’s captor had traveled the same route. Obviously, the culprit was someone known to the building’s security force if he or she entered the building this way. He already had a good idea of who was responsible. Time stood still inside the elevator as it made its slow journey to the top of the skyscraper. Merlin tried to remain patient, knowing that Arthur would need all the calm comfort Merlin could muster.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, rushing toward him as he opened the door.

Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur and pulled him close. Arthur clung to Merlin. Merlin could feel the stiffness in his shoulders, every muscle wound tight.

“I needed to tell you,” Arthur said when they broke apart. “I’m sorry I bothered you. You’re supposed to be at work.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Merlin said, waving his hand in the air. “What’s going on?” He turned to close the apartment door. The lock and the handle appeared to be undamaged. Whoever took Gwen didn’t break in, even if they managed to get past the doorman to the building.

“It has to be Morgana,” Arthur said.

“I was thinking the same thing. You’re sure you didn’t simply misplace Gwen’s carrier? Could she be stuck somewhere? Or asleep somewhere?” Merlin asked. “I know Aithusa sometimes—” 

“I’ve looked everywhere. She always comes running when I open the door,” Arthur said. “And I keep her carrier in the hall closet for when we take a trip to the vet.”

“You’ve tried calling her?” Merlin asked.

“Gwen?” Arthur asked.

“Morgana,” Merlin said.

“Oh God,” Arthur said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I think I’m losing it.”

“Come on, let’s sit down and think this over,” Merlin said, taking his hand.

Arthur’s eyes were red and his skin was pale, lacking the healthy glow Merlin had admired less than an hour earlier. They moved toward the sofa where, on the previous visit, they had enjoyed Gwen’s company. Merlin sat first, fitting himself into the corner. He pulled Arthur down next to him, so he could embrace him while they talked.

“Yes, I called Morgana, but she doesn’t answer. I’ve left a message,” Arthur said.

Merlin stroked Arthur’s hair, massaging his head with his fingers. “What about the front desk? Maybe someone saw Morgana and can identify her?” Merlin asked. “At least that would give us a place to start looking.”

“Yes, I already asked them about it. The regular doorman didn’t see anything this morning, but there’s a different doorman on duty during the weekend. They’re going to have him call me,” Arthur said.

Merlin felt Arthur’s neck muscles relax as he moved his fingers over Arthur’s scalp. “That’s good,” Merlin said. “Surely he’d remember someone leaving the building with a cat.”

“Morgana has a key,” Arthur said, turning to face Merlin.

“That would explain how she got in,” Merlin said.

“And I’ve called the police. They took the information, but since they think it’s part of the inheritance dispute, they told me to call my lawyer. Oh, and they suggested I call the Animal Control Officer as a precaution,” Arthur said. “I still need to do that.”

“That’s great. You’ve already covered a lot of ground,” Merlin said. “I wasn’t quite sure what to expect when I came over here, but you’ve made a good start.”

“I hope Morgana doesn’t hurt her,” Arthur said, tensing up again.

“No, Gwen would be of little value to her then,” Merlin said, rubbing Arthur’s back. “Here, I have an idea.”

Merlin reached into his pocket and took out his cellphone. He dialed Gwaine and waited for him to pick up.

“Hey,” Gwaine said.

Merlin held the phone away from his ear and turned on the speaker so Arthur could hear their conversation.

“Sorry about those extra stops,” Merlin said.

“No problem,” Gwaine said. “I got a nice tip from Mr. Tan. He says I’m better looking than you.”

“Very funny,” Merlin said. He could barely hear Gwaine because of the traffic. The honking horns and sirens drowned out his voice, and Merlin could have sworn he heard the air brakes of a semi, riding alongside him. “Hey, are you anywhere near the South End?”

“I’m on Columbus, heading toward Back Bay,” Gwaine said.

“That’ll work,” Merlin said to Arthur, patting his thigh. “Can you head over to Rutland? You remember delivering to Morgana Pendragon last week?”

“Of course, your Prince Charming’s sister,” Gwaine said.

Merlin blushed. “Hey man, I’ve got you on speakerphone, don’t rat me out,” Merlin said. Merlin felt Arthur’s lips curl into a smile as he nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck. 

“Oops, sorry,” Gwaine laughed. “Yeah, I can head over there. You think she has the… um… thing we were talking about earlier?”

“It’s too late. The cat has already been let out of the bag,” Merlin said with a grin. “It would be worth a shot. She’s on the ground floor. Do you mind being a peeping Tom this morning?”

“I’m on my way,” said Gwaine.

“Call me when you know something,” Merlin said, ending the call.

Merlin felt Arthur’s arms tighten around him when he put the phone back in his pocket.

“Thanks,” Arthur said.

Merlin pressed a kiss to the top of Arthur’s head.

“We’ll get her back,” Merlin said.

The words were easy for Merlin to say, but he worried about making a promise that he might not be able to keep. Even if Morgana was Gwen’s captor, there was something about the ease with which she had taken Gwen from the apartment. Merlin knew Arthur and Morgana had been meeting frequently because of the fight over Uther’s estate, but he doubted Morgana would have known that Arthur would be out all last night.

Merlin ran his hands over Arthur’s back, trying to maintain the calm he had established. As much as he hated to do it, he asked, “Arthur, I’m not saying he did, but is there any chance that your uncle gave you those Sox tickets to get you out of the apartment for the night?”

Arthur shifted so Merlin could see his face. Merlin regretted the worry he had put there. It was awful enough for Arthur that his parents were gone and he had no family he could rely on for support. His sister likely stole his cat, and for another family member to be involved in deceiving Arthur as well? Merlin was afraid it would be too much for Arthur to bear.

“Do you think he might have done that?” Arthur asked.

“Well, he might _not_ have,” Merlin said, backpedaling. “After all, you told me that your father’s friends often gave you tickets and things. Maybe it was just a coincidence.”

Arthur sighed, his breath playing softly over Merlin’s face. “It doesn’t seem like a coincidence. It might have been his plan all along. Morgana always had him wrapped around her finger. It wouldn’t have taken much for her to convince him to play along with her, especially when there was money to be made.”

“I’m so sorry,” Merlin said.

“No, I’m sorry,” Arthur said.

“You’re sorry?” Merlin asked. “Why are you sorry?”

Arthur didn’t say anything. Instead, he wriggled out of Merlin’s arms and stretched out on the sofa, his head in Merlin’s lap.

“Arthur?” Merlin asked, his hands tugging through the blonde locks of hair. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Promise you won’t be mad at me,” Arthur said, his eyes fluttering open.

“Why would I be mad at you?” Merlin laughed, tugging his hair a little harder. He hoped that he was about to find out that this was all a big joke, that Gwen would leap out of a box at any moment and put an end to his fear that she had been kidnapped. “Arthur?”

“The tickets…” Arthur said, grabbing Merlin’s hand and placing it on his chest. “The first tickets… to the Tigers’ game…”

“I’m listening,” said Merlin, confused as to why Arthur was bringing these tickets up while Gwen was missing.

“You’re going to think I’m a jerk!” Arthur said, nudging Merlin’s half-hard cock with the back of his skull.

“I won’t!” Merlin laughed. It felt good to have Arthur’s head resting on his thighs. Arthur was sweet and vulnerable like this, vying for Merlin’s approval, something bossy Cenred never would have done with Merlin. It gave Merlin some confidence. In just a short month, Arthur had gone from an attractive, but unapproachable son of a CEO and a haughty prat, to a sweet cat-owning guy who Merlin wanted to help and protect at all costs. He only wished he could enjoy what Arthur was inadvertently doing to his cock, instead of having to comfort him in his time of distress. “Tell me what you’ve done.”

“I got those Sox-Tigers tickets on my own,” Arthur said.

“What do you mean, _on your own_?” Merlin asked. He wasn’t sure what Arthur was trying to tell him.

“I mean no one gave them to me,” Arthur said. “I bought them from a scalper.”

“And you told me that a friend of your father’s gave them to you?” Merlin asked.

“Yeah, but I’m telling you about it now,” Arthur said, his eyes looking up hopefully at Merlin. “I wanted to impress you. I knew you liked baseball. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Merlin sighed. “I suppose I can think of worse things I’ve done to impress a guy,” he said, his hand patting Arthur’s chest.

“I probably wouldn’t have told you, except for you mentioning that people often gave me tickets to things. They do sometimes—don’t get me wrong,” Arthur said, looking away. “It’s just those particular tickets… I got them because I thought they’d make you want to go out with me.”

Arthur was adorable. Merlin couldn’t blame him for what he had done. He was just trying to be nice and Merlin felt special that Arthur went out of his way to get the tickets. “All right then,” Merlin said, leaning down to kiss him on the lips. “But no more fibbing just to get into my pants.”

Merlin felt Arthur’s smile against his mouth. 

Just then, Arthur’s phone rang. He reached over to pick it up from the coffee table.

“Hello,” he said. Then he whispered to Merlin, “It’s my attorney.”

Arthur held the phone up so Merlin could hear, but all he could make out was a woman’s voice and the mention of Arthur and Morgana’s name occasionally interspersed with more conversation while Arthur agreed, nodded his head, and grew more agitated.

“But I’m sure she stole her,” Arthur said. And after a moment, “I’ve already called the police. Thanks.” He ended the call and dropped the phone onto the coffee table. “Thanks for _nothing_ , I ought to have said.”

“What did she say?” Merlin asked, pulling Arthur’s head back onto his lap.

“That was Nimueh, the paralegal. She says that since Gwen belonged to my father, both Morgana and I have an equal chance of getting her in the settlement. If I truly think Gwen’s been stolen, I’m to call the police. There’s nothing they can do about it,” Arthur said. “They’re completely useless. I want my cat back!”

Merlin let his fingers sift through Arthur’s hair. He wished there was something more that he could do to help, but right now, it seemed that the only thing he could do was to comfort Arthur and help pass the time. He took a deep breath and watched Arthur’s head rise and fall with each slow inhale and exhale. After a few minutes, the LCD display on the stereo turned to 7:45 AM. Merlin’s phone vibrated in his pocket.

“Gwaine?” Merlin said, punching the button for speakerphone.

“I’ve got her,” Gwaine said.

“Morgana?” Merlin asked.

“Morgana and Gwen,” Gwaine’s words were unmistakable.

Arthur sat bolt upright and clambered over to Merlin’s side.

“Morgana has Gwen?” Arthur asked.

“When I pulled up, Morgana was leaving. She got into a taxi with Gwen in one of those cat carrying cases,” Gwaine said. It sounded like he was whispering into his cellphone, trying to keep from being overheard.

“Where are you now?” Merlin asked.

“I’m following behind them,” Gwaine said. “They’re turning right on Shawmut, but the way traffic has been, they won’t be getting anywhere fast this morning.”

“Where could she be taking Gwen?” Arthur punched the sofa cushion.

“Gwaine, any idea where they’re headed?” Merlin asked.

The sounds of the morning rush hour came through the speaker.

“Sorry, I had to stop. I’ve already had too much coffee this morning and I can’t pedal that slowly. I don’t want Morgana to see me tailing her,” Gwaine said. “I don’t know. They’re headed southwest on Shawmut. Toward Jamaica Plain, I think.”

Merlin thought for a moment. What was near Jamaica Plain?

Arthur leaned forward and cradled his head in his hands.

“Oh my God!” Merlin shouted. “I think I know where she’s going.”

Arthur turned to Merlin and opened his mouth wide with disbelief.

“Gwaine, stay with her,” Merlin said. “I’ll call you back in five.”

Merlin leapt to his feet and shoved the phone into his pocket.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, dragging Arthur out of his seat. “I should have thought of this before.”

“What, Merlin?” Arthur asked. “Where do you think Morgana is taking her?”

Merlin gripped Arthur’s shoulders. “Gwen,” Merlin said. “Where did your father get Gwen?”

Arthur scratched his head. “Well, he got her from the SPCA, of course.”

“That’s what I thought,” Merlin said. He looked at the clock. “The SPCA opens in less than fifteen minutes. We’ve got to get there before Morgana does.”

“What does the SPCA have to do with it?” Arthur asked, following Merlin to the door.

Merlin dragged Arthur into the hall and bounced on the balls of his feet while Arthur locked up.

“Gwen belongs to the SPCA. Your father was her caretaker. With his death, Gwen still belongs to the SPCA and it’s up to them to assign her a new caretaker,” Merlin said. He really needed to slow down to make Arthur understand, but as they ran down the hallway to the elevator, there was no time to spare. Merlin punched the down button and waited for the elevator doors to open. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Arthur said. “Gwen was my father’s cat.”

“I know,” Merlin said. “It seems stupid, but the SPCA has their reasons for it.”

“We’ll have to hurry if we’re going to get there before Morgana,” Arthur said, when the doors opened.

They scrambled inside and began their descent to the lobby.

“I have a friend who might be able to help us at the SPCA—Gilli,” Merlin said. 

“Can’t we just call him?” Arthur asked tapping his pocket for his cellphone.

“He does things by the book,” Merlin said. He knew how Gilli operated and he was a little worried about asking him for a favor. “He’s just going to tell us that we need to get there before Morgana, but I’ll call him and let him know what’s going on when we’re on our way.”

“Can you bribe him?” Arthur asked.

Merlin suddenly laughed, remembering what he learned yesterday. “As a matter of fact, he’s head over heels in love with Freya.”

“Your secretary?” Arthur asked.

“Don’t ever let her hear you call her that,” Merlin snickered. “She’s a delivery expediter.”

“Very funny. While you’re calling Gilli, I’ll call Freya,” Arthur said.

“As if she’d listen to you,” Merlin said.

“She might. Have you forgotten that she was my accomplice once before? I’ll get us a taxi,” Arthur said.

“Arthur…” Merlin started. He watched their reflection in the mirrored elevator door and remembered the time, weeks ago, when he watched the same reflection and thought it didn’t look as if they belonged together. He couldn’t have been more grateful for the time that they had spent together and that his first impression had been wrong. Merlin reached over and took Arthur’s hand. “I’m afraid there’s not enough time for a taxi.”

“Sure there is,” Arthur said, swallowing hard. “I’m going to get Gwen back.”

Merlin took a deep breath. “It’s Monday morning, in the middle of rush hour,” Merlin said. “There’s only one way to get there before the SPCA opens.”

“Magic?” Arthur asked.

“Something like that,” Merlin said with a laugh. “I’ll have to ride there.”

The elevator dropped them off in the lobby and they rushed toward the revolving doors, Merlin’s bike shoes clattering on the marble floor.

“But if you think you’ll get there before me,” Arthur said, when they stepped outside. “What about Gwen? I need to go with you.”

“Well I can’t very well let you ride on the handlebars, can I? As much as I’d like to,” Merlin said gently. “You have to trust me to do this, and you can try to get there yourself while I’m riding there, just in case....” 

Arthur signaled to the doorman that he needed a taxi and waited while Merlin unlocked his bike.

“Just one more thing,” Merlin said, as he secured the chain around his waist and latched the lock. “If you get a call from the SPCA, asking if I live with you at The Devonshire… can you say that I do?”

Arthur smiled, his eyes gleaming with hope in the morning sunshine. “You can, you know,” he said. “If you really want to live with me.”

Merlin thought his heart would burst. There were a million things he’d like to do to Arthur to show him how much he loved him at this moment, but he had to rescue Gwen. “We can talk about that when I see you next,” Merlin said, hopping onto the bike. “Right now, I’m off to see a man about a cat.”

Arthur leaned in for a quick kiss as his taxi pulled up to the curb. “Good luck,” he said before he climbed into the back seat.

Merlin fastened his helmet and pulled on his shades.

“I’m going to need it,” Merlin said under his breath.

As soon as his front tire hit the street, Merlin realized that Gwaine wasn’t kidding about the traffic. It was as if there was some unwritten rule that said everyone had to make it to work on time for the Monday before Labor Day in order to get the holiday off the following week.

Merlin took a quick look around, checking for police before he pedaled into the oncoming cars on Water Street. A few turns of the crank down Washington Street and he could see the traffic moving on Tremont when he looked between the buildings as he rode past. He jumped onto School Street and barely missed being doored by an idiot who was double-parked.

He wanted to yell in frustration, but considering he was traveling against traffic, it wouldn’t be wise to call attention to himself and possibly get stopped for a traffic violation… not when Gwen’s future was a stake. At last, he turned onto Tremont and rode with the flow of traffic. He pulled out his cellphone and called Gwaine.

“What took you so long?” Gwaine asked.

“I’m on Tremont, heading past The Common, where is she?” Merlin asked as he pedaled past cars.

“They’re on Malcolm X, headed for Columbus Ave. They’re not moving fast,” Gwaine said.

“Okay, stay with them. I’m about two miles away I figure. I’m coming up on the Mass Pike now,” Merlin said. It was difficult to hear Gwaine over the horns of angry motorists and intermittent sirens of the city’s emergency vehicles. “Oh, and I think they’re headed to the SPCA on Huntington.”

“Why would Morgana be dumping Gwen at the SPCA? I thought she wanted her?” Gwaine asked.

“No, she’s not dumping her, she’s going to make her adoption official. It’s a long story. Look, if you can do it, try to keep Morgana from bringing Gwen into the shelter,” Merlin said. It was harder to explain things to Gwaine when he was out of breath and trying to pedal fast to avoid a collision.

“How am I going to do that?” Gwaine asked.

“I don’t know. It’s just a thought. Try distracting her, maybe talk with her when she gets out of the taxi,” Merlin said.

“I’ll do the best I can,” Gwaine said. “I’ll see you when you catch up.”

“Thanks,” Merlin said, ending the call.

Traffic was slow on Tremont. Merlin easily cruised past the cars while they waited in bumper-to-bumper traffic. He tried to time the lights as they turned to red, conserving his energy by pedaling hard only when it meant he’d get through the next intersection without having to stop.

When he hit the red light at Mass Ave, he called the SPCA and asked for Gilli.

“I know you’re not open yet,” Merlin said. “But this is an emergency.”

“Sure, Merlin, what’s going on?” Gilli asked.

“Remember I told you my new boyfriend had a cat that looks exactly like Gwen?” Merlin asked.

“How could I forget? You were so excited about it over the weekend,” Gilli said.

“Well, I have news for you. Are you sitting down?” Merlin asked. “The cat we know as Gwen… The Gwen… she _is_ my boyfriend’s cat.”

“The Gwen? From the Internet?” Gilli asked.

“That’s the one,” Merlin said.

“No fucking way!” Gilli yelled. “Oh, sorry…”

Merlin could hear Gilli apologizing to his team of volunteers.

“Listen, Gilli. My boyfriend’s father adopted Gwen from the SPCA a couple years ago. His father recently passed away and now my boyfriend’s sister is trying to keep Gwen for herself,” Merlin said. He wove in and out of traffic, trying to stay ahead of the cars that were moving the fastest.

“Well, she’ll have to fill out an application if she wants to adopt a cat from us,” Gilli said.

“I know. She is going to try to adopt her right now. We can’t let that happen. Gwen belongs to Arthur. He’s done everything to care for her, but his sister wants to make Gwen into another _Morris the Cat._ ” Merlin said. “Morgana is on her way there with Gwen now. Can you help me out?”

“I want to help you, Merlin,” Gilli said. “But if her adoption application gets approved, I really can’t stop her from adopting.”

Merlin swerved onto Columbus Ave, taking his feet off the pedals and letting the sole of his bike shoe skim the blacktop on the inside corner. He had closed the distance between The Devonshire and Gwaine’s last known location, but he still had another mile to go.

“I know that,” Merlin said. He pumped his way down Columbus Ave, keeping his eyes open for Gwaine and his bike among the pedestrians. “What about me?”

“What about you?” Gilli asked after a pause.

“Can I adopt Gwen?” Merlin asked. He gripped his handlebars tight, waiting for Gilli’s answer. “I have an application on file.”

Merlin could hear Gilli sigh over the phone. “But you can’t have a pet at your apartment,” Gilli said. “You’ve already told me that.”

“I have a new address,” Merlin said. “My boyfriend, Arthur Pendragon, can verify it.”

Merlin sped through Jackson Square and took a sharp right onto Centre Street. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he waited for Gilli’s response.

“Give me his number,” Gilli said.

Merlin rattled off Arthur’s cellphone number, making Gilli repeat it back to him just to make certain he had it right.

“Call him, Gilli,” Merlin said. “Call him before you unlock the shelter doors today.”

As Merlin put his phone back into his pocket, he unwittingly glanced at the time. It was 8:00 AM.

Beads of sweat broke out across Merlin’s forehead as he pedaled to the intersection with Huntington Ave. He was about a hundred feet away from MSPCA when he noticed a bicycle lying in the middle of the sidewalk outside the entrance. There were at least a few taxis in the line of traffic that crawled down the street toward the next red light. Although Merlin wished with all his might that Arthur had been in one of them, he saw no way that Arthur’s taxi could have made it through the morning traffic so quickly. He worried that Morgana may be inside one of them with Gwen.

Wondering what had become of Gwaine, Merlin pedaled as fast as he could to where the bike lay. He came to a stop beside it. It was Gwaine’s bike all right. He didn’t have to look much further to find out what was going on. There was an argument taking place somewhere behind the hedges that lined the sidewalk.

“If you come any closer, I’m calling the police,” Morgana shouted.

“Oh, come on… you don’t want that cat,” Gwaine said. “I bet you don’t even like cats.”

Merlin leapt off his bike, the metal frame skittering across the sidewalk to rest beside Gwaine’s. He plunged through the hedges and found what he was looking for when he emerged into the back parking lot.

Gwaine had Morgana cornered beside the loading dock. She was dressed in a business suit with her hair pulled into a ponytail. In one hand, she held the handle to the cat carrier, and inside the carrier, Gwen howled and clawed at the door, wanting to escape.

“Morgana, that’s not your cat!” Merlin yelled. He hated to see Gwen so distressed. For a cat who loved boxes, Gwen sure was pissed off about being in the carrier.

“I’ve been trying to tell her that for five minutes now,” Gwaine said, a look of surprise on his face when he saw Merlin.

“It may not be my cat now, but it will be mine before you see it again,” Morgana said. She took advantage of Merlin’s distraction and dove to Gwaine’s right, running alongside the building, her heels clattering on the pavement.

“Stop!” Merlin shouted giving chase with Gwaine.

Morgana’s heels were no match for the loose gravel that littered the parking lot. She slipped and stumbled forward. To Merlin, everything looked like it happened in slow motion—Morgana falling, using her hands to break her fall, and Gwen’s carrier sailing through the air.

“No!” Merlin couldn’t tell if it was Gwaine yelling, or if the shout was his own voice. He supposed it was both.

The cat carrier landed badly on a front corner, the plastic warping with the impact enough to dislodge the metal grate of the door, which settled with a clank in the parking lot. Gwen bounded into the parking lot full of cars.

“Get back here!” Morgana shouted. She pulled off her heels, staggered to her feet, and chased after Gwen, hunting down row after row for the wayward cat.

Merlin was furious at Morgana. What if Gwen took off? What if she were hit by a car? He wanted to chase after Morgana to give her a piece of his mind, but he knew that yelling and carrying on would only upset Gwen and keep her in hiding.

Morgana was already two rows away from Merlin, when Gwaine said, “I think she went this way.”

Merlin followed Gwaine down the row of cars, stopping to look beneath them to see if they could find four white paws.

Morgana had run to the opposite end of the parking lot, shouting, “Here kitty, kitty!”

Merlin walked slowly, stopping to investigate any sudden movement he caught in his peripheral vision.

“Hey, Merlin,” Gwaine said quietly from a row away. “I see her.”

Merlin was careful to avoid sudden movements that might startle Gwen. He made his way to Gwaine and peered down the length of the parking lot looking for Gwen. There she was, sitting on the pavement washing a paw, the width of a dozen cars separating them.

“Here kitty, kitty,” Morgana continued to call.

“Maybe if you go down this row, I can work my way around the next one and we’ll get her between us,” Gwaine said.

Merlin agreed with his suggestion. He moved slowly, heading down the row toward Gwen, willing for her to stay right where she sat, so he could bring her to safety.

Gwaine made his way to the next row of cars and headed in the same direction as Merlin.

“Can you see her still?” he asked.

Merlin nodded that he could.

Both men moved in Gwen’s direction with one row of cars between them. Unfortunately, Morgana caught on fast. She hurried to the row of cars that had Merlin and Gwaine’s attention.

“There you are, my little kitty,” Morgana said.

Merlin walked faster, but his heart sank as Morgana reached down to lift Gwen off the ground. Arthur was going to be so disappointed.

Just then, Gwen raised her paw and sliced her claws across Morgana’s cheek. Morgana let out a blood-curdling scream and clasped her hands to her face. It seemed that, except for Morgana’s voice, the whole city went silent.

Gwaine quickly cut across the row of cars, stopping when he reached Morgana.

Merlin got on the ground, the blacktop hard under his knees. He held out his hand and said, “Come on, Gwen… please….”

Gwen scampered out of Morgana’s reach and rubbed her face against Merlin’s hand.

“That’s a good girl,” Merlin said, scooping Gwen into his arms.

Merlin realized the danger was far from over when Morgana lunged toward him. Fortunately, Gwaine was able to keep her in check while Merlin sprinted toward the SPCA entrance with Gwen. He burst through the door and ran to the front desk. He was never so happy to see Gilli in his whole life.

“Hello, there,” Gilli said. “How can we help you today?”

Merlin placed Gwen on the counter. He could barely speak, because he was so out of breath, but he soon managed, “I’d like to adopt a cat.”

=^.^= )

“And that’s when Morgana came running through the door, demanding to adopt Gwen,” Merlin said. He let his head fall to Arthur’s shoulder as they rode back to The Devonshire in the back seat of the taxi, his bike securely stowed in the trunk.

“I wish I could have seen her face when Gilli told her that your adoption paperwork had already been approved,” Arthur said.

Merlin poked his fingers through the front grate of the carrier and stroked Gwen’s neck. She had settled down some, compared to how she had behaved with Morgana.

“It didn’t stop Morgana from trying to race through the application,” Merlin said. “She was scribbling her information down so quickly, I doubt anyone could have read her handwriting anyway.”

Arthur turned to Merlin and kissed his head.

“I don’t know whether Gilli was more excited about meeting Gwen, or having the pleasure of placing her with a true cat lover,” Arthur said.

“He would have let you adopt her if you got there in time,” Merlin said, lacing his fingers with Arthur’s. “I’m sorry it happened this way. It’s not fair to you.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Arthur said. “I’m just happy to have her back and to know that we’ll never be parted again.”

“You won’t be,” Merlin said. “I promise you that.”

Arthur reached a hand around the back of Merlin’s neck and drew him in for a kiss. Merlin closed his eyes while Arthur teased his mouth open. He let one hand trace every muscle and contour of Arthur’s chest while the other hand stroked Gwen through the carrier door.

“Thanks for getting Gwen back for me,” Arthur said, pulling back so just their noses were touching. And then he spoke more softly so the taxi driver couldn’t hear, despite getting an eyeful in his rearview mirror, “I love you.”

Merlin grinned. “Are you sure you’re not just saying that so I’ll let you play with my cat?” he asked.

“I’d rather play with the cat’s owner,” Arthur said with a growl, leaning in for another kiss.

“That could be arranged,” Merlin said. “Freya has given me the rest of the day off.”

“Really? How did you manage that?” Arthur asked.

“It’s amazing how agreeable she can be when you give her a little power,” Merlin said.

“Let me guess—Gilli?” Arthur asked.

“Exactly,” Merlin said.

“I had to do something while I was stuck in traffic. I called Freya and told her what was going on with Gwen. She told me she’d try to convince Gilli to accept your word that you lived at The Devonshire,” Arthur said.

“She can be very persuasive,” Merlin said.

“He’s obviously very open to suggestions,” Arthur said.

Merlin stared out the window. “Don’t make me say it.”

“He’s pussy-whipped,” Arthur chuckled.

“You said it, not me,” Merlin said. He dipped his head to peer into the carrier and added, “No offense, Gwen.”

The taxi pulled up to The Devonshire having made the trip in a fraction of the time it took to drive to the SPCA in rush hour traffic. Arthur paid the fare while Merlin cradled the cat carrier as if it were something precious and fragile. The driver popped open the trunk and Arthur pulled Merlin’s bike out and set the wheels on the sidewalk.

“You know,” Arthur said when the taxi drove away. “It’s been years since I’ve tried riding one of these.”

He swung his leg over the crossbar and found a pedal with one of his feet.

Merlin closed his eyes. “I can’t bear to watch,” he said.

“I still remember how,” Arthur said confidently. “It’s like riding a bike.”

Merlin laughed. “At least use this,” he said, tossing his helmet to Arthur.

Arthur slapped the helmet onto his head and began to awkwardly pedal down the sidewalk in front of The Devonshire.

“You haven’t done up the buckle,” Merlin yelled.

Arthur managed to circle back to Merlin. “How do you even stop this thing?” he said, dragging a foot on the ground until he came to a stop.

Merlin took hold of the handlebars. “Haven’t we had enough excitement for one day?” he asked.

“Oh, no,” Arthur said, both feet solidly on the sidewalk again. “I think we’re just getting started.”

Merlin barely had time to let Gwen out of her carrier before Arthur had him pressed against the door of the apartment. Arthur’s hot breath ghosted over Merlin’s neck while he tugged at the zipper of Merlin’s Lycra shirt.

Gwen sniffled curiously at the bike that Arthur had leaned against the wall. Merlin smiled when she rubbed her face against the front tire, but he hoped she wasn’t strong enough to topple it over, as the noise would distract Arthur from what he was doing. Merlin gently shooed Gwen away with his foot and twined his fingers in Arthur’s hair, guiding his head so their mouths met, the scrape of Arthur’s cheek burning Merlin’s lips.

“You’re insatiable,” Merlin said with a hum when he pulled away.

“Are you complaining?” Arthur asked as shoved the stretchy material out of the way so he could kiss a trail across Merlin’s collarbone.

“God, no,” Merlin said, taking Arthur’s mouth again.

Merlin felt one of Arthur’s hands curl around his hip as his other hand explored the chain and lock that Merlin wore around his waist. As Arthur’s fingers skittered over each link, a vibration went straight to Merlin’s cock.

After another kiss, Merlin reached into his pocket and offered Arthur the key.

“Sexy,” Arthur said, taking the silver key and dropping to his knees.

Merlin watched Arthur through lustful eyes as he fumbled with the lock. The tiny click sounded as the lock came undone, freeing Merlin from the all too necessary tool of his trade.

Arthur held one end of the chain in each hand, pulling it taut against the small of Merlin’s back. Merlin let his head tilt back, hitting the door with a thud. A groan escaped his lips while Arthur rubbed the chain lower and lower across his ass. Despite the padding of his bike shorts, the sensation sent a spike of pleasure through Merlin. There was no turning back now, not when Arthur was happily mouthing at his cock through the thin black fabric.

Merlin felt his balls tighten and he shifted to spread his legs apart. He chanced a gaze downward and caught Arthur looking up at him, his blue eyes shining with the joy of getting Gwen back and his lips wet with spit.

Arthur let the chain drop to the floor. The sound sent Gwen scurrying away from the hallway, giving up further exploration of her master’s antics. Arthur’s hands roamed over Merlin’s thighs while his mouth applied steady pressure to Merlin’s cock. When Arthur began to peel down the bike shorts, Merlin’s knees grew weak.

“Come on,” Merlin said, clutching Arthur’s shoulders. “Let’s get horizontal before I pass out from your hotness.”

Arthur smiled and kissed his way up Merlin’s body before taking his hand and tugging him over to the sofa. To Merlin’s amusement, Gwen had settled on a cushion. She sat there preening herself, licking a paw and rubbing it over her jowls. He felt bad that she had been though an unspeakable ordeal with Morgana. Merlin sat next to her and watched her wash. It made him happy that she was back to enjoying her home and seemed none worse for wear.

Arthur petted Gwen’s head. “Hang on,” he said, crossing the room. “Let me get her a box. I hope she still loves them.”

“Of course she does. She’s only been gone for a day at most,” Merlin said as Arthur went to the kitchen for a box. “To her, it probably just seems like she’s been on a long strange trip to the vet.”

Arthur returned with a Gwen-sized box. He set in on the floor and Gwen showed an immediate interest in it, jumping off the sofa to have a look. Arthur collapsed on the sofa next to Merlin. He slung his arm over Merlin’s shoulders and they watched Gwen investigate the box by jumping inside it.

“She still loves her boxes,” Merlin said, patting Arthur’s thigh.

Arthur sighed heavily and tightened his hold on Merlin. “Now,” he said, burying his nose in the crook of space behind Merlin’s ear. “Where were we?”

Merlin leaned back, taking Arthur with him until they were a tangle of limbs stretched out on the sofa with nothing better to do than watch a cat jump in and out of a box for the rest of the day.

“I forgot to tell you,” Arthur said. He slid his hands under Merlin’s shirt and pushed it up to expose Merlin’s pale torso. “We have to stay home until the locksmith comes.”

“Oh,” Merlin gasped as Arthur pressed kisses to his belly. “You’re having the locks changed?”

It was difficult to listen to what Arthur was telling him. Merlin was too busy trying to get Arthur to pay attention to his cock which was straining uncomfortably against the fabric of his shorts.

“Yes,” Arthur said. “It’s the only sure way to keep Morgana from having access to the apartment, even though it wouldn’t do her any good to kidnap Gwen again, when she already has a legal owner.”

Merlin wanted to agree, but he could only babble incoherently as Arthur peeled his shorts lower and traced circles across the sensitive newly-exposed flesh with his tongue. Merlin lifted his hips off the sofa and shoved his shorts the rest of the way down, freeing his cock to inspire Arthur further. He reached for Arthur’s shoulders, but Arthur sat up and tugged off his shirt, dropping it on the floor with Merlin’s shorts.

In her nearby box, Gwen hunkered down as if she found something to attack. She peered over the top edge, her eyes wide.

Arthur leaned in to strip Merlin’s shirt from him. A light breeze wafted through the open window, freshening the air with a coolness that promised the end of summer and the short days of winter to come. Although the air was cool on Merlin’s skin and made him shiver, it only made him appreciate the sensuous feel of Arthur’s warm chest against his own.

Arthur held Merlin’s eyes as he went in for a feverish kiss and Merlin decided he could easily get used to this, a beautiful new apartment to live in, a gorgeous new lover to shower with affection, and a new cat who already had taken up such a big place in his heart before he even knew her.

He wanted to say something to Arthur about it. He wanted to tell him how happy he was, but when Arthur pulled away and slid between Merlin’s legs, his thoughts turned to yet more carnal desires.

“I want,” Merlin whispered, his eyes half-closed to the dizzying wave of pleasure as Arthur sucked his cock into his mouth.

Merlin moaned and twined his fingers into Arthur’s hair. He almost came apart when Arthur looked up at him while he laved attention to his swollen cock.

Arthur slowly pulled off and said, “I know what you want,” his breath warm on Merlin’s skin.

Merlin barely had time to contemplate what he meant before Arthur hooked his arms beneath Merlin’s thighs and licked a path along the crease between Merlin’s legs. Merlin let go of Arthur’s head, afraid of how much damage he might do to Arthur’s hair if he were left to his own devices. Instead he closed his eyes and gripped the sofa cushion, hoping that it could withstand mistreatment by his fingernails.

Every muscle in Merlin’s body tightened when Arthur touched his hole with the flat of his tongue. He was so aroused that he thought he might come just from that. But suddenly, he felt a sharp thump. He opened his eyes when he heard Arthur laugh a gust of breath caressing his balls.

There she was, Gwen in all her glory, perched atop Arthur’s back.

Merlin couldn’t help but smile.

 _“Your_ cat,” Arthur began, shaking his head. “Is seriously affecting my performance.”

 _“My cat?”_ Merlin asked, realizing that it was true.

“All right, then. _Our_ cat,” Arthur replied.

=^.^= )

_Epilogue — the first days of winter_

Hunith was a beautiful bride.

Merlin beamed as he escorted her down the aisle of the country church, the organ music swelling with their every step. Earlier that morning, a glaze of snow had coated the rooftops of their New England town. It made Merlin’s mother fret about the road conditions and black ice that might delay their guests, but now the day’s thaw and the soft glow of candlelight only added to the warmth of the gathering of their family and closest friends.

When Merlin and Hunith arrived at the front of the chapel, Merlin kissed his mother’s cheek and clasped her hand to Iseldir’s so the ceremony could begin. Iseldir bowed his head to Merlin. Merlin nodded to the man who would make a noble substitute for the father he never knew. As long as Hunith was happy, Merlin was pleased with her decision. His duty fulfilled, Merlin stepped into place in the front row of congregants next to his beloved Arthur.

Arthur was the perfect wedding date. Merlin didn’t have many occasions to wear a tuxedo, but Arthur’s promise that he’d divest him of his bowtie as soon as the ceremony ended provided him with something to occupy his thoughts during the solemn exchange of vows. They stood and sat and rose again as the service progressed, Hunith and Iseldir pledging themselves to each other in the company of their families.

“That could be us someday,” Arthur whispered in Merlin’s his ear during a moment of transition.

Merlin blushed and fought back a smile. “Right, then,” he said, kicking Arthur’s foot.

Perhaps they’d discuss this opportunity in more detail later, like when Merlin had Arthur pressed against the closed door to their bedroom so he could show him how he really felt about spending the rest of their lives together.

Merlin slipped his hand into Arthur’s for the rest of the ceremony.

At the reception that followed, Merlin was proud to introduce Arthur as his partner to his daft Aunt Alice. She looked Arthur up and down, and Merlin was quite certain that she thought Arthur was female. She squinted curiously at his face before Arthur cleared his throat in a stern suggestion that Merlin find more sane relatives that still needed an introduction.

Uncle Bart seemed to lose all his fight when Merlin pointed out that Arthur owned fifty percent of the Ketch-All company, manufacturers of the world’s finest animal control pole. By the time Merlin dragged Arthur onto the dance floor, he was sure that Arthur had convinced Uncle Bart that he was a financial genius who would look after his nephew Merlin as if he were a well-kept housewife.

While it was true that the division of Uther’s assets allowed Arthur some financial security, he still had a job to do and a business to run. He and Morgana had split the money from the sale of the apartment and that gave Arthur enough for a substantial down-payment on a South End brownstone that he and Merlin now called home. He used what little remained to restart the video engineering business that he had left behind in New York. Merlin continued to have coffee with Gwaine every morning before they took to the streets with their deliveries.

And Gwen… she had no part in the business at all. Although Merlin and Arthur had discussed using Gwen’s status to attract new clients, they agreed that they never wanted her to have to work for even a single day of her life. Instead, they waited on her hand and foot, taking time to update her FaceBook status or upload a new video to YouTube only because nothing delighted people more than seeing Gwen jump into a box or chase a catnip mouse.

Making people happy… that seemed like an important enough job for a cat.

When the reception ended, Merlin and Arthur stayed at Hunith’s house, where they had brought Gwen for the Christmas break, despite Gwaine’s generous offer to cat sit. Gwen tolerated the two-hour car ride better than she would have being home for two weeks, even if she were visited daily by her doting cat sitter. Aithusa didn’t even mind having company as he and Gwen hid together under the bed whenever a stranger arrived. Merlin assured Aithusa that Gwen was only there temporarily while they visited, and that Aithusa’s cat door would be unlocked as soon as they returned to Boston and left him to enjoy his Connecticut hunting grounds once again.

The fair weather held for the rest of the weekend and into the following week, with only an occasional snow flurry to remind them that it was winter. By the day after Christmas, Hunith and Iseldir’s home had turned into an informal site of family feasting. Although the wedding celebration was over, the table was covered with Christmas dinner leftovers and homemade delicacies. The trash bins were stuffed to overflowing with Christmas wrap and ribbons, remnants of wedding decorations and the occasional uneaten slice of fruitcake.

A steady stream of well-wishers made their way through Hunith’s kitchen. Old friends and new neighbors were pleased to see Merlin, especially since he was accompanied by his handsome and entertaining boyfriend and their adorable Internet-famous cat. If they were lucky, Gwen would join them while they socialized, sometimes even taking a spot on their lap for a short nap or a session of fur-stroking.

It was one way to get attention while her servants were busy enjoying themselves. 

_Gwen was tired of her human companion and the lap she had occupied during her lengthy, spellbinding tale. She loved movement, change and challenges—she had been inert for too long now. Standing up suddenly, tail held high and whiskers quivering, she proudly stretched before jumping down to the floor in one fluid, graceful motion. Deigning to look back at the human for a moment, she said, "You seem bright enough. I’m sure you can figure out the rest of the story for yourself."_

_And with that, Gwen was off to explore the house and find another box to eviscerate or bag to hide in, waiting for her two favorite people to go to sleep for the night. She’d wait until they were spooned together and had finished exchanging the kisses and touches that they often did. Then, she would settle into the space behind Merlin’s knees and purr._

end

=^.^= )

**Author's Note:**

> I Am Gwen was written for Paperlegends: The Merlin Big Bang and as a fill for [this](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/24606.html?thread=24795678#t24795678) prompt.
> 
> Please visit my Livejournal [ Story Masterpost](http://gwylliondream.livejournal.com/52512.html) for artwork, more notes, and extras.


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